Chapter 7

Richie pushed out of the stuffy studio, tugging a cap off the peg at the door. He tucked his hair back and opened the door for her. She passed him, that scent sneaking up on him just before she brushed across his chest to get past him. He unhinged his locked jaw as she walked ahead. An afternoon with her? Man, not one of his better plans.

He rounded the corner until the shopping district came into view. The old cobblestones bled through the pavement. They'd started revitalizing the area, bringing back the old to live with the new. He watched the pedestrian traffic ebb and flow with storefronts both artsy and eclectic. Most things were one of a kind here, catering to the high end bohemians.

He didn’t realize he was walking at his regular long legged stride until she matched him stride for stride. Her legs, miles long with the extra addition of heels were nearly even with his. He swallowed, thanking God for sunglasses as he forced his gaze away from her legs, but not before he tried to picture them in a skirt.

He headed for the park; the flood of people would be just what he needed. Snagging a park bench he folded his hands over his notebook, pressing the lot of it over his stomach. "Tell me about you, Lex. Why do you do what you do?"

She settled herself on the far side of the bench and glanced up startled. "Knowing about me won't get the job done. I'm not that interesting really." Her gaze slid from his face to the people ebbing and flowing like the tide. It helped her relax and even relent a tiny bit. "I'm good at putting things together I suppose. Finding the truth of something and making it sellable?"

She couldn't tell him the real reason; that she'd failed at what she loved best, he didn’t need to know that. "I happen to like what I do though, usually."

He glanced over at her. "Not so different from me. I find the truth in a scene, a word, a thought and try like hell to sell it in a song." He shrugged. "I'd do it for free though. It's all I know, all I'm good at." He drummed his fingers over the hard leather of his notebook. "This is how I relax though. I like to people watch. There are a thousand and one stories here in how people play off one another."

She slipped her glasses up into her hair and sighed, "No one is just good at one thing Mr. Sambora, even you. I'm sure you're good at something else." Her eyes followed a rotund lady dressed in a rather bold gay print and could almost visualize the painting of life that surrounded her. "I'd even bet money on it, IF I were a betting type."

"I'm good at being a dad." He sat up. "My kid, Ava, she's my best creation. Even if she's moving on into those tweener years that will probably be the death of me."

She tried to not laugh, but a half strangled one escaped. "Getting old enough to date is she?"

"Jesus, no." He flipped open his notebook. "I know what guys are like. There's no fucking way she's going out until she's thirty."

She turned her head to watch him, and pushed back the rising ideas of colors or how he'd translate to a canvas. "She might have something to say about that."

"Yeah, she's a wily one. But I'm not budging. I know far too much about men from every age group." He flipped pages until he found his pencil. "But with me here and her in LA, it can get tough."

"Bugs ya don't it?"

He smiled at her. "Sure, rub it in." The grey frames were gone, tucked up on the smooth line of her hair. Warmth etched into the faint lines at the corners of her golden eyes. Loathe to own up to an uncontrollable almost teen, he still didn't have it in him to steer the conversation off the topic. She was actually talking to him for the first time. "I just don't want a Lindsey Lohan on my hands. She's a good kid. I want to keep her that way."

She nodded, instinctively getting the importance to him. "I'm sure she'll be fine, but," she stopped a moment and rethought her words, shifted the pros and cons of allowing any part of her out then allowing for it. It would only make the job easier. "I was talking about this morning though."

"About the Lindsey Lohans of this world?" he teased.

"Now that girl just needs a good spanking." She tilted her head, her curiosity beating the hell out of her reticence. "Why were you having so much trouble this morning?"

Richie's lips twitched. "I like the idea of her having to pick out her own switch like I did as a kid. Talk about fucking with your head." When she barely smiled at that, he sighed. "Ever had something stuck in your head; the kind of stuck that won't let you sleep?"

She almost winced, "Once or twice." There had been paintings like that once upon a time, she never slept until the colors were just so. It had to be just right or it wasn't finished.

"Well that was me last night." He looked away from her far too intelligent gold eyes. "I must have wrestled with that song until eight this morning. I swear if I have any more coffee today my guts will rot through."

"Strange, you could get the words that allude to hope on paper but not the sound." She turned to watch an older man toddle along the walk and smiled. "Hope is usually easy for most people."

Just like that, it clicked into place. His head swiveled back to her as he stood up. "Holy shit." When she didn't follow him, he turned around, walking backwards. "Back to the studio, woman...You're a genius!" That's what had been wrong with it. He'd been forcing the rougher sound on a gentle song. When she just frowned at him, he went back to the bench and snagged her hand and laptop case. "C'mon hurry."

Her eyes widened as he pulled her up, her hand moving to slide her glasses back on. "Good lord, something bite you in the ass?"

"That's how it works. Shit," he folded his notebook under his arm. "I could kiss you," he said with a smile. "Seriously I'd been trying to jam that lyric into a song that didn’t fit. "If I rearrange the accompaniment with the," he mumbled as the thoughts lined up the music in his head. He kept her hand in his as he practically dragged her around the corner.

Good God he was like a junkie on speed, she could almost see the wheels turning in those eyes of his as he sped along the street. She took a deep breath and pushed to keep up. So this was musical genius at work?

Shit she could see why that would be alluring. That damn dimple had flashed when the light bulb went off over his head. This guy all excited was nothing like the man she'd seen the last few days. He was something utterly different. This man she'd have to be more reserved around. He was trouble.