Page 57 of Just What She Needed

He'd put it off long enough, but now it was time to see if she could really handle arrogant, cocky, son of a bitch Rhys James.

22

Hopefully I'm bringing to rock n' roll the kind of spontaneity that I love, and always believed rock and roll stands for.—Joe Perry

If she got lost in Logan International Airport, Rhett was never going to forgive herself. After all, she managed to navigate DFW which was like a small city of its own, so Logan should be a piece of cake, right? Of course, she'd known where she was going in Dallas-Fort Worth. Go to this terminal, go to this gate, get on this plane. Now that she had landed in Boston, though, she was pretty much at a loss. Buoyed by excitement over Rhys's invitation to join him for Illicit's show at T.D. Garden, Rhett didn't even think to ask him if he planned to meet her at the airport. Was it possible for him to just roam around like that? Sure, he went almost everywhere he pleased in Dallas, but he wasn't on tour then, and she had no idea if strolling through airports was doable.

As her gaze swept over people hurrying from one place to the next, all of them looking like they knew where they were going, damn them, her attention was caught by a flash of white that waved above everyone's heads. She looked closer and saw her name scrawled in black Magic Marker across a square of white poster board. As she drew near, she saw it was being held by a tall, curvaceous woman with waist-length hair that fell across her plain white long-sleeved T-shirt like cinnamon covered in melted butter. Who in the world was she?

"Um, hi." Rhett came to a halt in front of the sign waver. "I'm Rhett."

The poster board was lowered, and warm brown eyes twinkled at Rhett from a pale face sprinkled here and there with light brown freckles.

"Oh, hey!" The woman's thick Southern accent turned the word into haaayy, and Rhett grinned. "I'm Sara Kellum, Ross's wife. Rhys sent me to get you."

"Thank God you're here," Rhett said. Maybe it was the accent that sounded a lot like home, or maybe it was the friendliness she felt radiating off Sara, but Rhett felt an immediate kinship with the guitarist's wife. "I got off the plane and realized I had no idea where I was supposed to go next."

"Just stick with me, girl, and I'll get you there." As they walked, Sara folded the poster board into quarters and shoved it into the nearest trash receptacle. "I oughta kill Rhys, though. He should've put you on an earlier flight, because we're gonna have to fight rush hour traffic all the way to the Garden. Do we need to go to baggage claim?"

"No." Rhett pulled forward the shoulder strap of her carryon bag and held up her wool jacket that was slung over one arm. "This is all I brought."

"Good deal." Sara dodged an escaping toddler and his mother in hot pursuit. "You won't need your coat, though. It's chilly outside, but the car's warm. And hallelujah Rhys booked you on American Airlines. This is the only terminal where the cars can wait curbside. Otherwise we'd have to traipse down to a stand, and I didn't bring a jacket."

As she followed Sara out of the terminal into the late February sunshine, Rhett gave the other woman a discreet once-over. In addition to the white shirt, Sara was wearing dark wash jeans that hugged her thighs and ass, and a pair of red suede flats. Unless Sara changed into a leather minidress or something before the show, Rhett was relieved her 7 For All Mankind jeans and black flats would fit in. Her shirt, though, was another matter, and would have to be remedied before she went to any rock concert.

They stopped next to a shiny black Town Car, and Sara engaged in a laughter-filled tussle with the driver over who was going to open the door. By the time the driver won the battle, Rhett was shivering and was happy to follow Sara into the warmth of the car.

She set her bag on the floor between her feet. "Is there going to be a place where I can change my shirt?" Two fingers plucked at the white oxford cloth of her button down. "I wore this on the plane because it's comfortable, but I have something else for tonight that's a little more...um..."

"A little more Rock n' Roll girlfriend?" Sara asked with a grin.

A nervous laugh shook Rhett's shoulders. "That's a good way of putting it, I guess. I'm not really Rhys's girlfriend, though," she added in an effort to forestall any injudicious remarks that might get back to Rhys. She'd be humiliated if he thought she ran around proclaiming something like that.

"No?" Sara arched a skeptical brow her way. "Have you asked him about that lately?"

Rhett's fingers clutched the wool of the jacket in her lap as a sudden attack of excited nerves assaulted her. Had Rhys been going around proclaiming that she was his girlfriend?

"No," Rhett said. "Why? Has he said anything?"

"Didn't have to." Sara shook her head with a smile. "Girl, Rhys has never flown a chick in to one of his shows. Ever." The smile faded a bit. "Well, except for right after he married Cruella De Vil. But she didn't come out very often, thank God. Anyway, yeah. We'll stop at the bus first so you can leave your bag, and you can change in there."

As Sara predicted, the traffic was brutal. The redhead checked the rose gold watch on her wrist every five minutes as the car inched forward, speeded up, and slowed to a crawl again. At one point she heaved a dramatic sigh.

"Lord, I hope we don't miss dinner."

"Dinner?" The word reminded Rhett that she hadn't eaten since her hurried bowl of Cheerios that morning, and her stomach set up a protest at the delay.

"Yeah, I'm starving." Sara checked her watch yet again. "They're probably doing the preshow meet and greet right now. Don't worry, you're not missing anything there. Those are usually boring as hell. But Mike's bringing in dinner afterward, and I don't want to get left out."

Rhett nodded as if she understood any of that, which she didn't. "Okay, who's Mike?"

"The tour manager. Really sweet guy, too. In fact, all the crew are great. Usually there's a stinker in every bunch, but it looks like they got lucky this time around."

Almost an hour later Sara leaned forward and pointed out the windshield. "There it is."

The first thing to meet Rhett's eyes was an enormous gold pedestal carved to look like a basketball net. On top of it rested a gold basketball the size of her car. As she shifted her gaze to the right, she saw a huge pale building which looked like an anthill under attack as a multitude of people streamed toward the doors.

"Kind of looks like an airplane hangar, doesn't it?" she remarked.