Jumping Jude: A Made Marian Novel Page 2

  I felt a warm hand on my lower back, and the hairs prickled on the back of my neck.

  “What’s the holdup, He-Man? Let’s go,” Jude’s teasing voice said from behind me.

  2

  Jude

  Derek Wolfe smelled good enough to lick. I stood close to him so I could smell the unique spicy scent of aftershave or deodorant that always surrounded him. He was six feet four inches of solid muscle mass waiting to pounce on anyone intending to do me harm. That thought took my breath away. Sometimes late at night I imagined his hot, taut body protecting me, fending off danger and gathering me up in his arms. It was my deepest fantasy, one whose bubble always seemed to burst as soon as the asshole opened his mouth.

  So, fine, he was handsome in a military hero kind of way. He’d been a Navy SEAL or something like that before they put him on my detail. But Derek hated country music like it consisted of a cat in heat singing him to death one screeching cry at a time. Maybe I was exaggerating, but I had a feeling he would’ve liked me better had I been Mick Jagger or Bruce Springsteen singing about something red, white, and manly while women threw themselves at the stage.

  None of this bullshit mattered because he was obviously G.I. Joe, all-American, boy-next-door straight, and, as far as almost everyone in the universe knew, so was I.

  I silently gave myself hell for lusting after the bodyguard in the first place. I’d been celibate way too long if this big oaf was lighting my fire. He wasn’t my type. Not sensitive and sweet. The brute’s main goal in life was probably to bench-press a pickup truck. Clearly the only explanation for being attracted to this alpha male was my out-of-control libido after years of self-imposed celibacy. My horniness was off the charts. I needed to consider finding a way to get laid, but it always came back to one thing. I couldn’t trust anyone not to out me to the press.

  So I stopped peeking through the crack and silently slid my figurative closet door back to the closed and locked position before exiting the dressing room to meet the fans awaiting me. When I arrived in the lobby, I saw my bandmates already mingling. Our keyboardist, Sutter, was taking a photograph with a gaggle of teenaged girls. Beck, the percussionist and a guy who grew up next door to me, spoke animatedly to a group of people by the bar. Finally, I saw Joey, our bass guitarist, and Fiona, our other vocalist and strings player, walking my way from the direction of their dressing rooms behind me.

  A PR handler came out of nowhere to lead me to the spot where fans had formed a line to meet me. As I signed autographs and took photos, I ended up speaking to a few fans longer than others.

  There was one man in particular who tried to keep my attention a little too long. He was in his thirties and gushed about how I was his favorite singer. I was as friendly chatting with him as with anyone, but something about him put me on alert. He stood a little too close, and I kept backing off, keeping the smile on my face and trying not to look uncomfortable.

  The slightest movement brushed my elbow, a touch I’d felt a hundred times before. Derek was reminding me to keep the line moving. We would never get out of there if I didn’t speak to as many people as I could. Even though I’d felt it many times before, the light touch still gave me goose bumps.

  “I’m sorry to do this, but I have to move the line along before people get too antsy. It was nice meeting you.” I smiled and started to turn away before the man caught my hand in another shake and started to pull me toward him. Before he had a chance to put his other hand on me, Derek stepped quickly between us, pushing me behind him with one arm and putting his other hand gently against the man’s chest.

  “Sorry, sir. Handshakes only,” he said in a calm, low voice.

  The man grinned and put both of his hands up in an apologetic gesture, causing Derek to drop his arms and allow me to move back around him.

  Before I could stop him, the man lunged at me, attempting to smack a kiss on my lips. It happened so quickly and unexpectedly, Derek barely got the guy off me before his mouth landed on mine. When he returned from dragging the guy to the exit, I could feel Derek’s residual tension as if he wanted to go after the man again and teach him a lesson. I gave him a look that said, Stand down, Marine.

  The fan had seemed sweet and sincere, if a little bit awkward. He’d laughed and apologized profusely as Derek dragged him away. Obviously he was just an overzealous fan. Stuff like that happened often enough. Still, the attempted kiss had left me with the heebie-jeebies.

  A few minutes later I saw a familiar face in the crowd looking determined.

  “Aunt Tilly?” I called out in surprise.

  Her head swiveled, looking through the group of people around me until singling me out with her steely gaze.

  “There you are,” she said with a smile, nudging a few fans out of her way with her elbows and hips before moving to the front of the line. It was hard for them to complain about being taken advantage of by an eighty-year-old woman.

  She caught sight of Derek behind me and her entire face turned predatory. “Well hello, there, hot stuff. Where have you been all my life?”

  “Tilly, it’s good to see you again,” Derek answered.

  I gave Aunt Tilly a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?”

  “Your mom wanted me to bring you some food. Said she was worried about you. You know how she gets when she’s stressed. I think Simone’s wedding plans have pushed her over the edge,” she said.

  I looked at her empty hands. “Uh, where’s the food?”

  Tilly blinked at me and then looked at her own empty hands. “Well, fuck.”

  I heard Wolfe chuckle behind me.

  “It’s fine. I’m headed out to dinner next anyway. Do you want to come with us?” I asked.

  “That depends. Who’s going to be there?”

  “Lawrence Hammond and his family. We’re just discussing the charity event I’m helping him with.”

  “Larry? Hell no. That man’s an insufferable bore. I might as well head down to my friend Janet’s place. She said her seniors group is doing strip poker tonight. The game goes fast in summertime, but I planned ahead. Got all kinds of layers on under this,” she said, pulling her sheer blouse out from her chest, revealing a sliver of a lace camisole underneath. “Gonna make those horny old bastards work for it.”

  I noticed the crowd getting antsy behind her and knew I needed to wrap it up.

  “Aunt Tilly, I have to keep working here but you have fun, okay? Be safe, and I’ll see you at the wedding. Is your driver around here somewhere?” I asked.

  “Oh crap. He’s in the red zone. I should probably go. You got a hundred bucks I can borrow?”

  I couldn’t help but bark out a laugh before reaching back to pull out my wallet. I fished out two large bills and handed them to her. “Don’t spend it all in one place, crazy girl.”

  “Thanks, sweetie,” she said before turning to the man behind me. “Wolfe, always a pleasure.”

  “Keep your pants on out there Tilly,” he said through a grin.

  “That’s the plan, gorgeous.”

  The rest of the reception went by quickly. I shook hands, gave hugs, and took selfies with people despite my shaking hands. Derek did his usual ignoring trick when people asked him if he could take a picture. He pretended to be deaf, blind, and stupid until they gave up with a shrug. I kept telling him one of these days I was going to get him a selfie stick so he could at least offer the poor fans another option when he refused them.

  The band exited the facility without incident before making our way to the Spanish restaurant for dinner. On the way there, Clint told me that someone named Ari Crowe kept trying to get in touch with me through my publicist’s office, insisting he was an old friend whom I would want to speak with. He asked if Ari was someone I wanted to contact directly. I cringed at the thought of talking to an ex after all these years, but I ultimately told Clint Ari wasn’t anyone important.

  Once inside, a hostess led us to a private room with a lar
ge dining table. Lawrence Hammond, the CEO of CleoTech, was already standing with a cocktail in his hand when we entered. He reintroduced us to his wife, Debbie, and twenty-five-year-old daughter, Chelsea, whom I had met several times. That night was the first time, however, Chelsea’s brother Adam was with them. He worked for Doctors Without Borders and was always out of the country when I ran into his family at charity events. Clint was the one to introduce me to Adam before we were seated.

  When I reached out to shake his hand, I noticed he was attractive in a boy-next-door way. Friendly, open face and a genuine smile when he met me.

  “I’ve heard so much about you from my family, Jude. It’s nice to finally meet you. I know you do lots of good work for the charities my parents are involved in,” Adam said.

  “Finally I get to meet the elusive Hammond son who is always off saving the world,” I said with a smile.

  “Nah, more like saving myself from attending so many of my parents’ charity galas. I had to go to med school to get out of wearing a tux every weekend and making small talk over hors d’oeuvres.” He laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, I fully support the organizations. I just don’t like the monkey suits.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m not even their son, yet your parents manage to wrangle me to most of them. Maybe I’ve been taking your place all this time, and you need to come back and save me,” I teased. Adam winked at me, and suddenly we were flirting with each other. Not okay. I gave him a polite smile and turned to include the rest of the family in our conversation.

  Once we sat down, I realized, once again, Chelsea was seated next to me. I wondered where the hell Jae was. Ollie had decided to hang out in the limo with her laptop instead of suffering through the small talk of one of these dinners. She would watch Game of Thrones or catch up on some social media posting on my accounts while the driver no doubt catered to her every whim. Ollie had a tendency to wrap everyone she met around her little finger, including me.

  Chelsea was in the middle of telling me a particularly non-riveting story about clubbing several nights before with Miley Cyrus when I discreetly made eye contact with Derek where he stood by the door to the private dining room. I tugged my earlobe. He carefully looked from my hand gesture to my salad plate and rolled his eyes. That was Derek-speak for, You dumbass, you can’t leave before the entree.

  I opened my eyes wider and tugged my ear again. Jesus, do something or I’ll surely die.

  Derek twisted his tongue in his mouth and clamped down, his signature look for trying to hold in a laugh. I ground my back teeth together in frustration, which egged him into a cough-covered laugh. He made as if to excuse himself from the room to get his coughing under control and two minutes later I heard my phone ring.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, standing up and reaching for my pocket. “Maybe this is my girlfriend calling to let me know where she is. Please excuse me.”

  I made my way out of the room and down the restroom corridor behind Derek. He stopped and turned around to face me, finally letting himself have a few open laughs at my expense. “Fuck you,” I told him. “Do you hear the made-up shit she’s spinning about clubbing with random-ass celebrities? Jesus. Doesn’t she realize those are people I know? Miley has been on tour in Asia for a month.”

  Derek quirked an eyebrow at me. “And?”

  I wanted to lay my forehead against his chest and be still for a minute, but of course I couldn’t. “And I’m tired. I want to go home and get into my own bed. I’ve been waiting months, Wolfe. Can’t you do something?”

  Derek put his hands on my shoulders and leaned his head down to look into my eyes. “One more hour, Bluebell, and I’ll get you out of here, okay? You can do it. Chin up. Only a couple more nights of this tour and then we’re off to your sister’s wedding in Napa.”

  “Ugh.” I sighed. I made my way to the men’s room, letting Derek go in ahead of me and check it out before leaving to wait in the hallway. After I finished washing my hands and was walking back to the dining room, I heard Derek say something. I turned to look at him.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Paisley was spotted at a club with her girlfriends a few minutes ago. Ollie texted to tell me. I guess that means she’s not coming. Sorry, Jude.”

  I cursed. “Why did Ollie text you instead of me?” I didn’t care about Jae more than my wish to have someone there to take some of the attention off me with the Hammond family. Nothing she did surprised me anymore. Her ability to maximize selfishness and minimize inconvenience was truly impressive. She had agreed to act as a girlfriend for me in exchange for help meeting people in the industry and being seen around town on my arm. I guess that only lasted until she found the newest rising star.

  Thank god she didn’t know the truth behind our little arrangement. She thought I needed her in order to keep my real girlfriend’s identity a secret from the media. There was one thing Jae was not, and that was bright.

  “I guess Ollie was worried about your reaction in mixed company.”

  “Great,” I muttered before walking back into the dining room. “Goddamned Jae.”

  When I returned to the table, Lawrence finally brought up the charity project I’d agreed to participate in, and the reason for our dinner meeting. The auction was in Nashville the following night, and he wanted to personally thank me for helping draw attendance to the event. Most people in my position were auctioned off as dates, but I had known that was a recipe for disaster in my case. It had taken some negotiating, but in the end I had agreed to be auctioned off for a two-hour private guitar lesson. The lesson would take place the day after the auction, before we left Nashville for our final concert in LA.

  3

  Derek

  Immediately after dessert I announced Jude and the band had to leave because they had a fan event the following morning. Joey and Fiona looked at me like I was a god while Beckett looked like he was ready to contradict me. He knew better, but I made serious eyes at him anyway to get him to zip it.

  Jude said goodbye to everyone in the family, politely thanking the Hammonds for including him in their charity plans. When he got to Chelsea, I could see a potential problem so I bumped Jude’s shoulder “accidentally” just before Chelsea’s arms were set to go around him. When he stumbled, I steadied him, discreetly placing him a good foot and a half farther away from Chelsea’s reach. It was just enough to make trying to embrace him again awkward.

  That was a move I’d done for Jude many times over the months. It seemed so blatant, I was shocked no one ever called me on it. Jude said it was because I did a good job impersonating a bumbling oaf. I didn’t appreciate his opinions.

  What I didn’t expect was the exact same embrace attempt coming from Adam. It came out of left field and caught me unaware. Jude was used to being hugged, but when it happened unexpectedly, I could sense him tense up in fear for the briefest of moments. I kicked myself for not anticipating the move, especially after what had happened earlier that night. I hadn’t been expecting it because Adam was the son of one of Jude’s philanthropist friends. And a guy. Jesus, how stupid was that logic?

  After Adam’s awkward hug, we walked out of the restaurant, Jude giving quick goodbyes to the band members he’d see the following day. We settled into the limo with Ollie, and I was finally able to sit and relax. I took the pack of peanuts out of my pocket and began eating them, glancing out the window at the lights of San Francisco all around us.

  Ollie talked softly to Jude, but I noticed Jude watching me instead of her. I raised an eyebrow at him wondering if he needed something.

  “You’re hungry? Why didn’t you say something at the restaurant?” he asked me.

  “Uh, because you’re not my mom,” I replied, more rudely than I’d intended.

  “You could have ordered something to go,” he said.

  “I brought the peanuts from the dressing room so I wouldn’t have to. In case you didn’t notice, entrees at that restaurant started at sixty bucks, Jude. The peanuts were f
ree. Big difference. The frozen dinner waiting for me at home is practically free too. If I steal one from your place before going home, then it really is free,” I teased.

  “I would have paid for your dinner. You were on the clock anyway.”

  “Yes, I was on the clock. Exactly why I didn’t stop to indulge in a little paella. Instead I was protecting your paella-eating ass, remember?” I smiled to let him know I was joking. He still looked concerned. “Jude, it’s my job. It’s what you pay me to do. Would you eat dinner while you were singing on stage?”

  “Of course not,” he replied. “But you’ve been on the clock for over twelve hours. I’m never on stage for more than three.”

  “Please let it go. We’re almost back to your place. I’m fine.”

  He turned back to Ollie to continue discussing something about the event the following day. I finished the peanuts and put the wrapper in my pocket. When we pulled through the gatehouse onto Jude’s property, Ollie disappeared into her apartment over the garage and I headed to my car for the drive back to my place.

  Before I got into the car I looked back to where Jude was standing by the door from his driveway into his kitchen.

  “Jude?” I asked.

  He turned to me, long hair following in an arc. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about tonight. About earlier, I mean.”

  His forehead crinkled in confusion. “What do you mean, Wolfe?”

  “That crazy fan at the VIP thing. I should have seen it coming and stopped it sooner,” I said.

  Jude let out a laugh. “Oh, you mean that guy who tried to kiss me? Don’t be sorry, that’s the closest I’ve come to getting any action in years. Night, Wolfe.”

  He turned and entered his house, leaving me to wonder what in the hell that meant when he’d been seeing his girlfriend for months.