Chapter 66

Thank God it’s Friday!

Between the hectic pace of year-end business at work and her relationship drama with Jon, Rachel couldn’t remember the last time she’d put in such an exhausting week.   Fortunately, it was over and they were slated to spend the weekend in the city.  The change of scenery would probably do them good. 

With a wave to the doorman, Rachel crossed the lobby over to the elevator of Jon’s building, inserting the key that would allow her to access the top floors.   Stepping into the penthouse foyer, she rounded the corner to find Jon standing in the kitchen eating peanut butter out of the jar.  A wide grin bloomed on his face the minute he saw her.

“Jesus, woman!  Just walk in here like you own the place.”

“Before you know it, I’ll have taken over the closet.”  She stepped into his open arms and wrapped both of hers around his waist, planting a soft kiss on his neck before pulling back to look at him suspiciously.  “Peanut butter, huh?  It’s probably all you can afford after the mortgage payments are made every month.  Are you after me for my money?”

“No, I’m after you for you cooking abilities, mostly.”  Jon gave a half-hearted slap to her rear end and replaced the lid to the peanut butter jar.  “I’m starving.  Let’s go grab some dinner and pick up a Christmas tree.”

“Wow… The first night using my new key and your only thought is food.  Is the honeymoon over completely?”

“Yes!  You've worn my dick out and my only interest tonight is food, so get your tight little ass into some jeans and feed me.  I put your bag in the closet when I got here earlier.   Oh!  Make sure you bring your wallet - you’re buying dinner.”

Leaving Jon to uncork a bottle of wine while she made her way to the master bedroom, Rachel was struck by how relaxed things felt between the two of them again.  Coming home to him tonight was the most natural thing in the world after the draining week  she was looking forward to a peaceful evening with just the two of them.

Stepping into the dressing area, she found an entire section had been emptied out, presumably for her clothes and smiled appreciatively.  Turning her head, she found that a white box tied with dark green ribbon was waiting on the marbled island.  The notecard on top was addressed simply:  “RB”. 

Her smile grew wider and opening the envelope, she skimmed the card inside that read, “Bring on the Christmas spirit!  Love you, JB”

She untied the bow and lifted the shiny, white lid off the box to find the most exquisite red bra and panty set she’d ever laid eyes on.   It was made of lace and satin, decorated with embroidered flowers containing just a hint of black to accentuate the Christmassy red.   She smiled as her fingers trailed over the decadent lingerie and felt Jon come up behind her.  

He set two glasses of wine on the island and chinned the hair off her neck, whispering, “Wear them tonight.  I wanna spend the whole evening imagining what you’ll look like when I take them off you later.” 

Gulp.

She felt like a hundred butterflies had been turned loose in her stomach by his words and the visual that came with them.   Every hair on her arms stood up and a shiver ran down her spine.  ‘Turned on’ didn’t begin to describe what he’d just made her feel.  

She allowed his arms around her waist to pull her back against him, so distracted with desire she could barely form a coherent sentence.   “Maybe you should help me put them on.”

“Love that…. It’ll  be hotter than anything I could ever imagine.”

Arms slithered up to wrap around his neck and eager breasts jutted forward as he began to unbutton her blouse.  They watched each other in the wall of mirrors in the dressing area, saying nothing as Jon removed her clothes piece… by… piece…. until the writhing body molded to the front of his was completely naked. 

He bent her slightly at the waist, lifting her right foot from the floor and pointing it through the leg band of the red panties. The same stimulating motion was repeated with the left leg and the satin was tortuously dragged inch-by-inch up her quivering legs until there was nowhere else to go.  Once  in position, a calloused fingertip traced the barest edge of the lace waistband and then drifted lazily up the plane of her abdomen, all the while never taking his eyes off of her mirrored reflection.

He slipped the straps of the matching bra over her arms in a similar fashion – first the left, then the right.  Pushing her torso forward, he held the intricately adorned cups guiding her breasts into them.  The edge of the bra caught her swollen nipple as he secured the fleshy globes,  taking great care to make sure they were plumped ‘just so’ before clasping the front.   

She could feel the beginning of an erection dig into her back as he straightened her and dipped a fingertip into the lacy cup, scraping it across that same throbbing nipple.   Biting her lip, she watched him with rapt fascination as his eyelids slowly descended and held there while his head tipped slightly back.  A sharp intake of breath confirmed that he was finding the whole scene every bit as erotic as she was.

Just as she began to press into him, he slowly released her, making eye contact again in the mirror. 

“Beautiful.”  Jon brushed the flyaway hair from her face and kissed her softly on the back of her head.  “But I think I should let you finish dressing on your own.”

Rachel could barely breathe or think, let alone speak, and all she could offer was a hoarsely whispered, “Coward.”

“Nah… Nothing cowardly about me, baby.  I just don't intend for anything to derail the evening I have planned for us.”  He twirled her away from the reflection to face the real flesh-and-blood man, who was wearing the most arrogant smile.   “It begins with us picking out a Christmas tree and ends with you sprawled out in front of it.  With all sorts of fun stuff in between.”   Both hands cradled her face and he leaned in to brush his lips across hers.  When  she made a move to press closer,  he retreated with a chastising shake of his head.    “Nuh uh.  You'll get your new panties alllll wet.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While they shopped the corner tree lot, Jon realized Rachel was a Christmas FREAK.  She literally wanted to see every tree on the place and threatened to walk the three blocks to the next one. 

“I love the way they smell when they're just a big green bush, but the ones with the snow on them are so pretty.  Whaddaya think, babe?  Flocked or not?”

Jon was ever-so-grateful for the tequila tasting they’d indulged in while waiting for dinner.   It hadn’t lessened his need for Rachel to be writhing all over him, but it had knocked the edge off his impatience  with her child-like glee of all things green and pine-y. 

“I think the same thing I thought seventeen trees ago.  It’s a fuckin’ Christmas tree… by the time you get it decorated it won’t matter.”

“Well, Mr. Bah Humbug, this is for your house.  What kind of tree do you like?”

He very nearly lurched at her from two trees away before hissing into her ear, “My sole interest in this tree is how you’re going to look under it.”

“Alright then, if that’s how you want to play…. Which do you want to see in that flash of light just before you come?  Flocked or not?”

Lord, God, Jesus…

Images of Rachel in raging sexual mode raced through his mind.  Every wild moment they’d ever shared was replayed in his head and he somehow knew tonight would top them all…  If he could ever get her to make a fucking decision on the little green monster she had her heart set on decorating tonight.

 

“In the visual that just flashed through my brain, it was flocked.  And your red panties were hanging off a limb.”  Squaring his jaw, he nodded resolutely.  “Flocked.  Definitely flocked.  With red ornaments all over it.”

She beamed at him like a proud mama.  “See?  You do have an opinion.”

The tree was wrapped and Phil, Jon’s driver, was tying it to the top of the SUV.  It would be delivered to the SoHo apartment along with lights, red ornaments and a few other assorted decorations they’d picked up at the corner drug store. 

Even though it was cold, the night air was refreshing enough to enjoy walking the elaborately decorated streets.   They were closing in on the Mercer Street address and his ultimate objective of ridding her of all those obnoxious layers of clothes when the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies detoured her into the local bakery, much to his impatient chagrin. 

As soon as they walked in the door of the penthouse, Jon’s naked plans were thwarted once again – this time by the scent of pine.  Rachel was just like a kid in the proverbial candy store and couldn’t wait to start in on that damnable tree. 

The comical process of stringing lights left Jon bordering on irritable until he caught a glimpse of Rachel’s amused face.  She looked to be as entertained as any front-row pit fan had ever been.

“You don’t DO this kind of manual labor much, do you, Rock Star?”

“THIS is my penance.  Remember it the next time you think I’m being a dick.”

“Hmm… That probably won’t be long if I know you.”

A faux stink-eye was thrown Rachel’s way as Jon crawled out from under the tree to power up the lights.  “Alright – let’s plug this bad boy in and see what we’ve got.”

The tree magically lit up with a glow only surpassed by Rachel’s.  She applauded like a well-trained seal and effusively praised his efforts.  “Aww… you did it, baby.  You hung a million lights and rocked ‘em all!!!”

“Pathetic…I mean, really… THAT was pathetic.”  Jon couldn’t help but laugh.  She was happy and he’d made her that way.

It’s about fucking time, asshole!

“Tinsel??? Did you buy this?”

Jon looked up to see Rachel wearing a Santa hat with “Naughty” written on the brim.  When she turned away to reach into the bag and retrieve the second box of contraband tinsel he’d slipped in, unbeknownst to her, he saw “Nice” was written on the back.

He lifted up his chin in defiance, “I most certainly did.  I like tinsel.”

“You’re completely destroying your cool factor with the tinsel.”

Satisfied that the tree was centered and straight, he joined Rachel in the kitchen, patting her butt as he stepped beside her.  “I’ve looked at a hundred trees with you tonight….I want the tinsel.  Not up for negotiation.”  He puckered his lips and kissed her before she could argue.  “Besides…I have a special ornament I want you to hang first.”

In the drawer of the sofa table, Jon retrieved a square box and offered it to her.  “A little something for you, my love… to hang on the tree.”

It contained a round, glass ornament with a picture of the two of them taken last summer in the Hamptons.  The photo had been snapped by paparazzi as they were leaving the party on her first night there and as such, had been heavily passed around in the press.  In spite of that, it was an excellent shot, capturing a very natural exchange of laughter between them and the obvious joy of their newfound lust. 

“You’re just full of presents tonight.  Thank you,” she said, eyes glowing at the ornament dangling from her fingertip. “I love this.”

“Good!  Because I had several more made.  One for each of our places in Jersey, and one for your tree in California.”

“Nice touch.  And speaking of California, I happen to have a little something for you, too.”

He took the small, lightweight gift bag Rachel offered and pulled out the tissue paper protruding from the top of the bag.  Inside were what appeared to be two house keys,  dangling from red, satin ribbons.  Like Jon’s keys to her, they were engraved - one with “W” and the other “NW”.  

“I noticed the keys you gave me were marked ‘N’, ‘S’, ‘E’  so I thought ‘W’ was appropriate for my house in California – West, get it???”

“I get it, but what about ‘NW’? “

“I like to think of my place in Jersey as “Navesink West”.  It works for me.  Besides, I won’t be there forever anyway.”

“Wow….   My own key?  Gosh, Miss Braden, you must like me a LOT, huh?”

“You’re okay, I guess.”

Jon’s arm suddenly encircled her waist and the gentle tug that accompanied it found Rachel face to face with him.  He playfully tapped her nose with the white pom-pom from the Santa hat that he’d taken from her and placed on his own head. 

“Why don’t you c’mere and sit on Santa’s lap and tell me what you want for Christmas, little girl.”

Her roll of the eyes was matched with her dry, “I don’t think Santa is supposed to look at my boobs when he’s asking me what I want for Christmas.”

“But they’re right in Santa’s face.  And if you put boobs in any man’s face, even Santa’s, we look at them.  And then… all we can think about is seeing them.  And touching them.  And licking them.”  Jon shook his head like a wet dog ridding itself of excess water.  “Sorry.  I got lost in the teenage boy-dom of boobs…You were telling me about your Christmas wish list.”

Her sexily whispered response was enough to make his pants uncomfortable. “Will Santa make sure I get what I want?”

“Depends on what you want.  If you want a new BMW, Santa can probably make that happen.  If you want something that needs to be fed, burped and changed… that’s another story.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got the memo.” Rachel rose from his lap and handed him another box of ornaments.  “Can we concentrate on the tree, please?  You’re hanging these ornaments haphazardly.”

“HEY!  I’m doing the best I can on this decorating thing, and by the way, you haven't asked for my Christmas list!”

Shrugging her shoulders, she loftily informed him, “I don’t need one.  I already have YOUR Christmas present bought and paid for.”  She pointed  to a branch on his side of the tree. “You missed a spot there.”

“How can you already have my gift when you don’t even know what I want?”

“I know YOU.”

“Is it sexually-themed?”  He adjusted the Santa hat lower onto his forehead and waggled his eyebrows, hoping like hell that it was, in fact, sexually themed. 

“Hmm… I suppose anything is possible.”

“Is it something you’re gonna wear for me?”

“I’m not playing twenty questions about Christmas presents.  Sorry.”  Rachel again pointed to the same branch that Jon had still left bare. 

“Fine.  Just one hint then.”

“No.”

The shaking of Jon’s head had the white pom-pom of that silly Santa hat bouncing from one side of his head to the other.   “Rachel, honey… We’ve already established that I can drive you to heights of sexual ecstasy that will force you to confess things that wouldn’t come out even under the torture of water boarding.  Wouldn’t it be simpler and less time-consuming if you just give me what I want?  Without going through the sexual frustration of trying to resist me?”

Jon knew that Rachel was used to his pawing, teasing and incessant sexual innuendos and that she didn’t even pay attention to it half the time.  This was one of those moments when she was ignoring him, placating him like child.   

Instead of actually engaging in his conversation, she  stood back at the tree while absently responding,  “I don't find it sexually frustrating at all.  In fact, I find it quite satisfying.  You’re the one who works up a sweat, and I'm left counting my many orgasms.  Then I’m so exhausted I sleep like a baby.  You feel like the ‘cock of the walk’ and everybody’s happy.”  A single finger pointed to the tree,  “There’s a bare spot right there.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “I don't think I've ever heard you say ‘cock’.  Very sexy the way it rolls off your tongue.”  If the slap she gave herself to the forehead was any indication, Jon would say she wasn't exactly aroused by the topic of conversation, but he couldn't let it go.  “So you're gonna just lay back and let me work myself to death trying to get you off?”

“It’s good for you.  Keeps you young and virile.  There’s still a big bare spot right there, babe.”

He knew he was hanging ornaments everywhere except where she wanted him to, but watching Rachel try to keep her aggravation under control was too much fun.  She pointed, again, at the same unornamented area on the tree and sweetly tried to get him to take notice.

“You’re pretty good at sitting back directing me to do all the work,” he observed while ignoring the blatant direction.  “I see a pattern forming here.”

“I like to stand back and watch you work, especially when you reach for the tall branches.  Your shirt lifts up just enough to give me a peek of the goodies to come.”  Finally, her patience had run out and she shook her entire arm, avidly pointing at the naked branch.  “Geez, honey… RIGHT THERE!  It needs an ornament.”

Jon set the box of ornaments down and slowly turned to her.  He took the four or five steps between them, slid his hands down the curves of her butt and pulled her flush against him.

“I’m saving that spot.  I want your panties dangling from that branch.”  Taking off the Santa hat, he put it back on her with the ‘Naughty’ side facing forward.  “And since the tree is all but finished, now seems like a good time to rid you of them.”

She went wide-eyed with surprise and he recognized the sudden change in her body language as lust.   They’d had such a rough week, the playfulness of the night combined with the holiday festivities had been a welcome and much-needed relief. Rachel seemed as happy as he was to have their relationship back on track, and also to play along with his game.

“Oh…… but if I sleep with Santa, won’t I end up on the ‘naughty’ list?

God, I love her!

The truth was, Jon loved everything about her.  He'd come so close to losing her this week and it made him appreciate this exact moment more than he once would have.  There was a light snow beginning to fall, the fire was roaring in the fireplace and she was in his arms eager to let him do unimaginable things to her.   

Damn straight she would end up on the naughty list. He would personally make sure of that.

“S’ok.  The girls on the naughty list get all the best presents.”

Chapter 65

It was an unusually clear New Jersey winter day, with the sun shining brightly overhead. Rachel pushed back from her computer, intent upon taking advantage of the blue skies for a stroll to her rock star’s 'office'.  He and Richie were working together and she was looking forward to a break from the tensions of her day, courtesy of the two men across the road.

There was still a patch or two of snow on the ground as she made her way across the familiar path to Jon’s studio. She could feel her nose getting cold and chastised herself for being fooled into thinking it wasn't cold enough to justify gloves for the short walk.

Brisk strides had her jogging up the stairs leading to the studio where she hoped to find warmer temperatures. She opened the creaky door and made her way down a short entryway. So as not to interrupt a crucial creative moment, she took great care to enter quietly and as she approached she could hear guitars, singing and then Jon speaking. 

“Let’s go back to the second part of that first verse…”

Acoustic guitars accompanied Jon’s singing, “We ain't got much but what we got is all that matters, We're picking up the pieces trying to put ‘em back where they belong.”

The guitars once again fell silent. “Yeah, I like it better there.”

Rachel poked her head timidly around the corner, catching the eye of her man. She was rewarded with a relaxed, welcoming grin on Jon’s still-unshaven face as he greeted, “Hey, Blondie.”

She almost whispered, “Is it a bad time?”

“You're not in church, honey. No need to be so quiet.”

Richie had been slumped over a guitar but now snapped his head in her direction. “Yeah sweetheart, we wanna hear you make some noise. Scream a little even!” He stood to kiss Rachel’s cheek and then questioned Jon, “Didn't your mama teach you to stand up when a woman as fine as this one enters a room?”

“Yeah, but my dad taught me it’s easier to get a girl to sit in your lap if you stay seated.” He patted his denim covered leg and held out a hand in Rachel’s direction. “C'mere.”

Rachel crossed the room and settled comfortably into Jon’s lap as Richie placed his guitar in the stand next to him and announced with a slight smirk, “I gotta go pee. You two carry on without me.” 

She wasn’t sure if the guitarist had just made an excuse to briefly leave the room for her benefit or not, but she appreciated the chance to sneak in a hot kiss on her man.  

“It’s gonna be an early day for me. Are you gonna be late?”

“I don't think so. Rich has plans tonight, which is good, actually. I’m tired. I want you, a bottle or twelve of wine and a quiet evening and the sooner I can make that happen, the better.” 

“Mm…. that does sound enticing. Do we have to wait until tonight? Let’s just cut the day off early and start now.” 

They often threatened to ‘play hooky’ but never did, both of them driven by the challenges their work provided. Devotion to their respective careers was one of the areas in their relationship that had never proven problematic even though both professions sometimes required large chunks of time. It was common for Rachel and Jon to go for days with their paths barely crossing but it made the together time they managed to carve out all the more rewarding.

“I'll be done in a couple hours,” he offered. “We could have dinner in the Pub – build a fire, maybe play that game of pool you claimed you wanted to play all those months ago.”

His eyes had long since left Rachel’s, focused instead on her bottom lip as his finger traced along the edge of it. It wasn't her intention to do anything more than merely amuse him when she took the barest tip of that finger into her mouth and gently sucked. “I could do that. Curled up with you in front of a roaring fire, surrounded by more liquor than any ten bars have stocked… that’s my idea of Heaven.”

“Gawd, you're a woman after my own heart. Tell ya what…  I'll take care of dinner, I want you to just totally relax tonight. Sound like a good plan?”

Before she could respond, a smooth voice loudly warbled out the lyrics, “Love is a wonderful thing…”  as Richie noisily crossed through the studio and back into the control room. Plopping back into his chair he swirled around like a little boy on an amusement park ride and kicked one leg over the other.

“You two lovebirds kiss and make up pretty fast and I want you to know I’m grateful for your forgiving nature, Rachel. My buddy here is a royal fucking Godzilla when the two of you are on the outs. As a personal favor to me, try and limit his meltdowns to when I'm on the other coast, will ya?”

Still nestled comfortably in Jon's lap, Rachel's eyes danced merrily as she twisted to address Richie. “If he has many more meltdowns I’m gonna send him to LIVE with you.”

With his face contorted in mock pain, Richie shuddered. “God help me – NO! I've lived with him when neither of us could afford to live anywhere else. You're stuck with him now. I’ve already put in my time.”

“Just my luck.” 

Jon squeezed her closer and nuzzled into her neck. “You're gonna have to keep me. Nobody else will have me.”

“Well, on that note…” A quick kiss to his cheek had Rachel rising from Jon’s lap. “I’m gonna let you two get back to work. Call me when you're finished for the day, okay?” 

“With the right incentive, that could be sooner rather than later, ya know.”

Ignoring the man she couldn't wait to see again later that night, Rachel patted Richie’s arm on her way out. “Get him back to work will ya? I need some number one hits written in here. His charm is waning, so he’s gonna need the money to keep me interested!"

She was around the corner and out of earshot when Richie waggled his eyebrows at Jon as he reached to retrieve his guitar from it's stand. “I like her.”

Jon nodded his understanding to his longtime friend, “Told ya.”

                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was quiet and intimate, followed by a suggestive game of pool that they almost finished before the stress and recent sleepless nights caught up with them. They were curled up together on one of the pub’s oversized sofas with a cozy fire blazing before them when Jon leaned over and reached under the couch to retrieve two festively wrapped boxes. He placed both small packages on Rachel’s stomach with a pleased grin.

“What’s this?” she asked lazily. To say Rachel was relaxed would be a gross understatement. The combination of the hearty dinner, ample wine and Jon’s thorough kisses had left her contented on every level. 

“Olive branch. Open them and you'll see.”

She eyed the two matching red bows and gave a half-hearted effort to discern what the little boxes might contain. She couldn't be sure but in her experience, small packages generally meant jewelry.

“Does it matter which one I open first?”

“Open the bigger one first.”

The wrapping paper and bow were torn off and unceremoniously tossed to the floor before she lightly shook the flatter of the two boxes and lifted the lid. His cocky smirk had Rachel’s face glowing and a sheepish grin curled her mouth up. She said nothing, waiting for him to explain. 

“Lost Highway…. our latest record. Listen to it. Memorize it. Learn from it.”

She couldn't resist teasing him. “Is it any good?”

“Are you kidding????” Jon's blue eyes sparkled with pretend outrage as he jabbed a tickling finger into her side. “It’s brilliant! Probably the finest music you'll ever hear!”

“Well, at least you're objective.”

He blew out a snort of mock disgust and nudged her leg. “Enough, smartass. Open the other one.”

The next small box contained three shiny new keys, each engraved with a different letter –   “N”, “S”,  and “E”. Rachel felt bad that she wasn't making the connection, especially finding his eyes filled with barely contained excitement when she looked into them with a puzzled frown. “I can see they’re keys…. but keys to what?”

“Keys to every property I ever spend the night in.”  Jon informed her proudly, taking the keys and holding each one up in turn. “‘N’ is for here – Navesink or New Jersey, if you will. ‘S’ is for SoHo and ‘E’ is East Hampton. You also have your own alarm code – 4047. I thought it would be easy for you to remember since it’s the address of your house in California.”

“Okaaaay….. why do I need keys to YOUR houses?”

Sitting up taller, Jon squeezed her hand firmly and gazed at her with eyes swimming in such sincerity that Rachel's breath hitched in her throat.

“Because I don't want us sleeping across the road from each other anymore. Whether we're head over heels in love or ready to strangle each other, at the end of the day we sleep in the same bed, under the same roof. We don’t turn our backs on each other and we don't run away from any problems we're having. It does nothing but make things worse.”

Rachel opened her mouth to speak and he silenced her with a tap to her lips before continuing on with his obviously prepared speech. “If we can't talk, fine. But it’s like you said, we WILL treat each other with respect. If we respect each other enough not to make things worse by shutting the other one out, we'll get through anything.”

The conclusion of his little monologue was met with silence. Knowing that Jon would allow her the time to process all that he'd just said, she felt comfortable to let the silence hang in the air. But she  wondered what the bottom line was to this key thing. 

“What brought this on?”

“We're working on a new song. The premise is two people getting through the tough times. I was thinking about us and how, no matter how bad things are between us, we can always ‘find forgiveness’, if you will, when we come together in bed. It’s what neutralizes everything bad between us. It doesn't erase it, it just brings it down enough that we can work through it.” He was on a roll and Rachel knew to let him finish his thoughts before weighing in. “You're right – we fight dirty with each other. I don't like it any more than you do but I think if we’re committed to putting pride aside when we turn out the lights and we sleep next to each other… then we’ll always find a way to work things out.”

“Jon, I’m not…” Another tap to her lips let her know she'd misunderstood. He wasn't done yet. 

“Just let me finish. You and I are at our best when we're together and that won't always be possible. I don't like what went down between us a few days ago and I like our complete avoidance of each other even less. Neither of us making a move for two days is just stubbornness… on both our parts.”

'CEO Jon' had waltzed into the Pub and kidnapped 'Relaxed Jon', much to Rachel’s chagrin. This guy couldn't sit still for more than ten minutes before he had a new project he was working on. And that restless energy had him rolling off the couch and walking to the area behind the bar. His pitch continued while he uncorked another bottle of Napa Valley's finest, retrieved from the wine fridge. 

“If we were living together, you would never have told me you felt ‘stuck’ and that you wished you could go home. I wouldn't have felt like I'd been punched in the gut and things wouldn't have spiraled out of control. If we knew that nobody was leaving, 90% of that disagreement would have been a moot point. This way, no matter what, at the end of the day we'll both be committed to say ‘Uncle’ and get to the other one.”

Again, her initial reaction was complete silence.

For a man of the world, Jon was surprisingly naïve in some ways. As if he could just will it all into place. He thought that giving her a house key implied the kind of commitment he thought she was looking for. In reality, there was no commitment, at least not in Rachel’s eyes. However, she understood him well enough to know what he was going for and for once, Rachel decided to hold his hand and jump into his world. She could look for the safety net later.

“I’ll have a key made for you tomorrow…. to my place.”

Jon looked like he could've been knocked over by a feather. And then he looked at her like she’d grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead. 

“That’s it? You’re not gonna argue with me?”

His mouth was actually hanging open and Rachel was as delighted with herself as she’d ever been. To stun Jon Bon Jovi into such a state that his mouth actually gaped was a priceless moment in time.

“Nope. I have a sweet tooth. Do we have anything for dessert?”

After a second or two, Jon regained his composure enough to close his mouth and then squinted his eyes at her while shaking his finger back at forth. “OH no, no, no, no, NO!!! You're never that agreeable. What’s up?”

A simple shrug of her shoulders was all he got and she knew she'd shocked him. “You told me a long time ago to just jump off the ledge and you'd catch me before I hit the ground. So I jumped.”

Suspicious eyes were zeroed in on Rachel and she knew he was questioning if there was a curveball about to be thrown his way. “Right……….. So you're not going to analyze this to death?”

“Newsflash… I don't need to put a lot of thought into committing to sleep in the same bed as you every night. I happen to relish sharing the same bed with you. The sleep thing we're gonna have to put some effort into but we can work on that part later.”

Jon gave an overly zealous shake to his head before crawling back next to Rachel. “The other night I was thinking you were like lightning – ‘predictably unpredictable’. Just about the time I think I have you fingered, you do something completely contradictory.”

“Ummm…. I want credit - right here right now - for not making a suggestive comeback to your ‘fingering’ remark.”

“So noted.” Jon held up his hand and wiggled his little finger in the air, “Let the record reflect the parties have hereby agreed to sleep together forever and ever, amen. Seal it with a pinky swear, little girl.”

He was so adorably cute, Rachel couldn't help but shake her head at him as she entwined her pinky with his. “How did someone as nerdy as YOU come to be considered such a sex symbol?”

His finger squeezed tightly around hers and he pulled her closer against him. “I have creative PR people.”

“You disappoint me,” she told him with a sad sigh. “I was hoping you'd offer to show me why you’re considered such a sex symbol. Maybe we'll put my new CD on and you can seduce me to a little something off Lost Highway.”

He laughed hard enough to actually snort. “Christ… I'd never be able to get it up. You're better off to let me set the stage.”

“Control freak.”

“Said the pot to the kettle….”

Rachel slid her leg over his and crawled up his front, kissing the fine smattering of fur at the top of his shirt. “I’m glad you showed up at my house last night. I missed you.”

She felt him kiss the crown of her head and wrap his arms around her, resting them on her butt.

“We're good together Rach." His innocent touch to her posterior had suddenly and decidedly taken a less innocent approach.

“And now, I’m gonna show you why I'm such a sex symbol – by ravaging your willing little body into mind-numbingly wild, hot sex. All over this Pub.”

Chapter 64

“I don't want to be anywhere, with anyone, that you’re not part of that equation. You keep talking about commitment… Commitment is marriage, Jon, but you’ve already told me you're not sure you ever want to get married again and that you're certain you're done having kids. I don’t know if that works for me.”

If her declaration had hit a raw nerve, Jon didn’t show any inkling of it. He didn’t withdraw his body from hers and he didn’t miss a beat responding with his own thoughts on the subject.

“Marriage is little more than a piece of paper, Rachel. You know that as well as I do. If two people aren't committed, then that piece of paper won’t hold them together. By the same token if they ARE committed, they don’t need the license. Either you’re in or you’re out and, right now, I’m a little concerned you’re not all in.”

While his concerns didn't exactly thrill her, the overall tone of the conversation did. They were talking about the elementary relationship basics two people should be able to talk about without raising their voices and being defensive. Rachel didn't agree with Jon’s perception about the meaning of marriage and, though she didn't want to start another fight so soon, they needed to work past the tension to find acceptable common ground. 

“I guess I don't see marriage the same way as you. Being committed to somebody is all well and fine but at the end of the day…  Well, if you don't have marriage to tie it all up, what keeps you from throwing your hands in the air and walking away when things get tough? To me, that piece of paper says ‘we started this, we'll finish it… a deal’s a deal’.”

Jon drew in a breath to interrupt but Rachel wasn't finished. One finger to his lips brought a playful nip and a grinned acquiescence from him as she continued.

“It’s more than paper, it’s a contract. You and I work with contracts all day long. We have to because a verbal agreement doesn’t mean shit when two people get mad and decide they want out of a deal.  What keeps a lot of business deals together IS that contract – that simple piece of paper.”

Rachel could see the wheels working in his mind and allowed the silence to hang in the air, giving him time to process what she'd said. 

“Maybe we see marriage differently because I've gone through a divorce and your marriage ended for different reasons. Are you saying you want us to get married?”

The question momentarily stole the air from her lungs. They were talking about marriage. Out loud. 

Do you?

‘Til death do us part’ had seemed the far, distant future when she'd first uttered the phrase to Nick. Being young and in love was a different kind of mindset – you didn't really think about the day you said goodbye to the one you were vowing to love, honor and cherish for the rest of your life. It was just part of the ceremony -  the pomp and circumstance - that accompanied the lacy white dress, three-tiered cake and throwing of the bouquet.

An older, wiser Rachel had maturity on her side. She knew now that marriage was beyond love and lust. And, in her case, ‘til death do us part’ had come too fast and stayed too long. All those vows had a completely different meaning to her when she considered saying them to Jon at this stage in her life as opposed to all those years ago with her late husband. 

She knew she'd been utterly miserable the past few days without him. But did that mean she wanted to commit the rest of her life to this shaggy-haired, ill-tempered rock star who didn't seem to believe in marriage and refused to give her more children? 

“Rach?” Her thoughts were interrupted by Jon’s tap to her hip. “You zoned out on me, baby. Are you saying you want us to get married?”

She only briefly looked into his eyes before her own filled to the brim with tears. She knew that this man was the closest thing to destiny she'd ever known. He was her future. 

“Not today, but down the road…  Yeah I think marriage will be important to me.”

Jon ran his hands across the scruff on his chin, as he often did when preparing to make a point and Rachel’s fairy-tale moment passed like his skin over the whiskers. He was continuing to have a practical conversation, while she’d gotten lost in the emotion of love. Only moments before, she was the one reminding herself decisions had to be made based on rationality.

Some things never change. Girls will be girls.

“And kids…. that’s something you now want?”  His eyes were intently focused on her, seemingly looking for some type of clue to the inside of her mind. “You didn't when we first met – I know because I specifically asked you that question.”

“I… don't know. I mean, until you brought it up the other night I hadn't considered it an option for me. But YOU pushed me in that direction.” 

Rachel flipped to her back, resting her hand on his lower abdomen and absently played in the tuft of hair just below. Now it was her turn to walk the razor’s edge between a loving conversation and a defensive retort.  

“It’s not as if we're having a conversation about whether or not to have a child. You've said you're not interested and I'm left to make the decision if that’s alright with me. It’s a take it or leave it kinda thing.” She took a deep breath and admitted, “I don't like the feeling of having a decision made FOR me by you and you alone, I know that much.”

His smile brought her nerves down a notch while his gentle kiss and quiet voice calmed her back to a relaxed place. “I know how much you hate being told what to do, and I don't mean to come off like a dictator. You told me before – last summer in the Hamptons – that  you wouldn't try to have more kids because it was a different time, a different you. Has that changed?”

“Of course it’s changed.” Rachel’s voice was purposefully even quieter than his, keeping both the mood and the conversation intimate with their hushed tones and gentle way they touched. “I fell in love with you and that changed ME. I’d put all aspirations for a normal life with a man and a family out of my mind. Then you sauntered in and I've been trying to catch my breath ever since. Hurricane Jon… it’s a powerful force, ya know?”

He let out a half-chuckle. “Funny… just tonight I was thinking YOU were the powerful force.” 

The kiss that followed was soft and deep at the same time, leaving Rachel less interested in talking than she liked to admit. Jon, on the other hand, seemed to find it easier to withdraw his mouth from hers and get back to the business at hand. 

“So, is the real issue babies versus no babies or that you don't feel like you've had a say in that decision? Those are two different things.”

She felt just a little defensive and it showed in her barked response. “Oh, I've had NO say in that decision…that’s for sure.”

With just the swiping of his finger over her bottom lip, Jon brought things back to a neutral playing field. The man could be calm and cool when he really wanted to, she'd give him that much.   

“Stay focused. Do you actually want to start another family? Just think about that….not whether or not you can or whether or not I want to. What do you want? Is it pregnancy, babies and raising kids for the next eighteen years? Because that would change the life you and I have together. I’ll be gone, you’ll be home raising kids. That’s the reality. It’s not a white picket fence with a traditional husband-slash-wife lifestyle. If you’re talking about a life with me, you're gonna have to decide if the reality of children fitting into that life is what you want.”

“And what if it is?”

“Then we have a problem that we'll have to resolve. But if you decide the reality of a family with me isn’t the family you've imagined - because it won't be anything like the family life you’ve had in the past with Nick - then we remove that bone of contention between us.”

Rachel had just gotten her first taste, up close and personal, of CEO Jon. She wouldn't have thought he was as astute at this as she was but the proof was in the pudding. He had her considering his side a lot more in depth than he was considering hers. It was… amusing at the least and maybe the sexiest light she'd ever seen him in. 

It was time to use her amusement for good instead of evil and lighten the mood. 

She turned to her side, facing him, sliding her leg back between his and making her arousal and intentions clearly obvious. “I feel like we're in negotiations… ‘conflict resolution’.”

His body responded to her exactly as she intended, his hand sliding down her back. His teeth scraped her earlobe before whispering, “You haven't called me an asshole yet, so I think we’re making progress.”

                               

                                       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tired. 

That’s the word that Jon thought would best describe how he felt as he groggily stumbled down the back staircase to Rachel’s kitchen, praying to the good Lord above that she'd set the automatic timer for the coffee to come on. He could handle the long, late nights of frolicking around in bed with her but this emotional shit was going to be the death of him. He didn't have the patience to wait for coffee to brew this morning.

Bare feet stepped off the stairs onto the cool hardwood floors and he smiled as the familiar scent of her favorite French Roast carried across the kitchen. He was a coffee junkie and Rachel wasn't far behind him. She got forty-eleven different kinds of excited at the first sip of her favorite morning beverage and both of them wanted a cup the minute their feet hit the floor. The only thing that would make her happier would be breakfast in bed. 

Jon reasoned he could throw together something edible to accompany the coffee. 

Grabbing a mug from the glass cabinet, he poured the dark liquid and took a sip, his mood spiraling downward as quickly as he turned around.

The Christmas tree in the corner of the family room was enormous and the packages surrounding it were elegantly wrapped. It  looked like a holiday postcard. The problem was, Jon knew decorating the tree was Rachel’s favorite holiday tradition and even though he'd promised her they would get a tree and trim it together, she'd obviously done it alone.

The one thing she'd had her heart set on doing, he’d fucked up. And that made him feel… sad. 

You screwed the pooch on this one, Bongiovi.

Opening the refrigerator door, he took out a few eggs to scramble and figured he would attempt to fry that God-awful turkey bacon Rachel insisted on eating. He cracked four of the eggs into a bowl and was trying to come up with a plan to remedy the fiasco when his thoughts were interrupted by what sounded like the cracking of a whip.

What the hell?

“Mornin’…   I found your belt hanging off the staircase.”

That explained the snapping sound. He'd found his jeans lying next to the bed this morning but the mystery of where the rest of his clothes had ended up last night was still unsolved, making him grateful for the couple of ratty t-shirts that had been left at Rachel’s these past few months. Without them,  he’d have been retracing their steps from last night, trying to find something to put on. 

“Great. Did you happen to find my socks, too?”

“No socks, sorry.” Rachel stepped into his open arms, wrapping her arms around his waist, accepting his puckered lips to hers.  

This man wasn't the man in magazines, she thought to herself with contentment. No, this man had the most atrocious bed-head ever known to exist. There was gray in his beard, his t-shirt had a hole in the armpit and his lips were chapped from the night spent kissing. To her, he was beautiful.

“Mmmn... smells delicious. Is there coffee?” 

“There’s your version of coffee, already brewed. You're really gonna have to get a decent barista machine.”

“I refuse to learn how to operate a coffee machine like yours. It’s a nightmare.” Rachel poured her coffee and refilled his before retrieving silverware from the drawer for their breakfast. “ How'd you sleep?”

“For the couple of hours you let me sleep, I slept great. The rest of the night I was servicing your delightful little body, thank you very much.”

“And you get a gold star for that, babe.” She offered him a wink and asked, “What’s on your agenda today?”

“Writing and recording…or something that resembles those things. How about you?”

“More of the same year-end drama in the wonderful world of real estate – a little wailing, a little gnashing of teeth. Would it be okay if I stopped by the studio today and watched you guys in action? Or is that taboo when you're working?”

He kissed the top of her forehead and reached around her, delving into the cabinet for plates. “You can come by the studio any time you want, no matter if we're working or not. Nothing’s off limits for you but why the sudden interest in my music?”

“I'm turning over a new leaf,” was her sheepish, simple response. “I told you I’m going to pay more attention to you and to the things that make you… you. I have twenty five years of your musical life to catch up on.”

After plating their food, Jon turned the stove off and leaned across the island counter to set their breakfast on the island. “I don't need a groupie, I need you. Just you... just like you’ve always been.”  Walking around to the bar stool beside hers, he kissed her forehead again and sat down to join her. “On another note, I see you got a Christmas tree.”

She shrugged. “I had a lighter day yesterday than I expected and I wanted to get in the holiday mood.”

Chewing on a bite of toast he considered whether to call her out on her blatant lie. In the end, Jon decided the light and breezy response was Rachel’s attempt at moving past their disagreement and decided he'd play along. “In the spirit of Christmas, I'll let that bullshit explanation slide and just apologize for spoiling that for you. I know you were looking forward to decorating the tree and us doing it together.”

He knew he’d hit the nail on the head when Rachel turned her face away in the name of sipping her coffee and then set the mug down and continued to avoid eye contact with him. 

“I’ll live.”

Damage control was his specialty and thinking fast was second nature, thank God. It allowed him to keep things spinning in a positive direction.

“If you’re up for it, I thought it might be fun to stay in the City this weekend – we could decorate a tree there, go out for dinner… interested?”

She nodded agreeably but didn't seem overly excited by his managerial brilliance. “Sure, if you’d like to.”

If Rachel wasn't going to look at him voluntarily, he would help her out. Jon turned her bar stool to face him. He would get them back on track before the morning was completely derailed due to his idiocy.

“I know a little place that offers high-end tequila tastings. Would that get you in the mood to forgive me for being a total dick?”

He could see her grin fighting to stay hidden but she couldn't quite pull it off. The mischievous eyes he'd come to adore met his. “’Tequila’ and ‘dick’ in the same sentence? Really? Are you planning to get me drunk enough to unzip your fly and blow you?”

There she was. His playful girl was right there in the same room with him – the spark in her eye, the flirting tone, the way her body leaned into him. Christ, he'd missed her.   

“So does it take tequila for you to be persuaded to unzip my fly and blow me or would coffee do the trick?”

“Your coffee could probably persuade me to do more than that.”

“I swear, behind that innocent, angelic face there’s horns and a pitchfork….”

“Which is why you like me so much.”

“S’true….” He'd slid off his barstool to straddle her legs with his and nip at her ear. “Do you notice how ‘awkward’ disappears between us so easily?”

“Yeah. A little like our clothes. Some days I wonder why we bother to get dressed at all.”

“Oh, I can tell you why I get dressed. It’s because I don't want to deprive you of the pleasure of UNdressing me.”

“Yeah, you’re the thoughtful one – that’s pretty much been established the last few days.”

Acknowledging the jab, he spun her bar stool to once again face him and took her hand. An easy tug had her pulled from the chair and he playfully dragged her up the back staircase. “Sweetie, will you follow me upstairs? And while you're behind me, beyond lusting after my ass, will you take that knife out of my back?” He got chills from her happy giggle.

“I think that butt of yours may be enough to make me forget what I was mad at you about in the first place.”

“Christ, I hope so. If not I'm gonna have to resort to diamonds, and I tell ya…  at the rate I’m going with you, that shit’s gonna bankrupt me before I ever see Valentine’s Day.”

Chapter 63

The cool, crisp night air was refreshing as Jon made his way to the car.  Tossing his jacket into the passenger’s seat, he wondered why people kept their homes so damn hot when they got older.   

In an effort to distract him from his problems, Richie had invited him for a famous pot roast dinner at his mom’s house.  He didn’t know if Mrs. S’s pot roast was really world famous, but that’s what the guys in his band had called it and, anytime she cooked for them, that was what she fixed.   A pleasant evening with Richie and a home cooked meal courtesy of Mrs. Sambora had been just what Jon needed to distract him from his Rachel problems, and he definitely needed distracting from the fact that they hadn’t spoken in two days.  

As much as he appreciated the gesture and the company,  the cold leather on his back felt good.   He was glad to get out of the oven-like house before he was as well-done as the roast – even if it meant he was headed to his own empty monstrosity of a house. 

Guiding his SUV onto the road, he cracked the windows to let the winter air blow over his face at the same time Robert Palmer’s “Simply Irresistible” came on the radio.   The intro to the song was unmistakable and Jon turned the volume to an ear-splitting level, immediately visualizing the video for the song.  It was a classic.

She’s anything but typical

She’s a craze you’d endorse

She’s a powerful force

You’re obliged to conform, when there’s no other course

She used to look good to me

But now I find her…

Simply Irresistible

The corner of his mouth threatened to creep into a grin when he considered that “powerful force” might be a pretty good way to describe Rachel.  She was like lightning – predictably unpredictable.  A powerful force of nature.   He had found her irresistible almost immediately and had done backflips trying to impress her with his house when his celebrity hadn’t been enough to catch her interest. 

Richie had been right.  Rachel wasn’t one of those women who was a ‘hang-er on’, or someone who wanted to be seen.  Any time the press approached them she quietly moved on ahead of him.  She made no attempt to be in on the photo ops at the many events they’d attended in recent months. 

“Jon Bon Jovi” didn’t mean a thing to her.  “John Bongiovi, Jr.” was the one who interested her.

Her lovin’ is so powerful

It’s simply unavoidable

The trend is irreversible

The woman is invincible…

She’s a natural law and she leaves me in awe

She deserves the applause, I surrender because

She used to look to me, but now I find her….

Simply Irresistible.”

A natural law… Yeah, that was Rachel.  He’d surrendered to her immediately.  He’d gladly ruled out any other women in his life at the first mention of it from her.  At that point they’d actually only spent one night together, but, in his gut, he knew something was different with her.  She had taken up residency in his mind at about the same time she’d possessed his body.

As he drove, Jon recalled the times he’d been needlessly harsh with her.  He had been unreasonably cross when she got stuck in Charleston before the Obama fundraiser and refused to use his plane.  He realized only now that her refusal to fly privately was because she had no desire to use and abuse his financial resources.   If she’d been the type of woman to hint, or even outright ask, for favors like that she’d have been long gone. 

She appreciated the things he had in terms of recognizing their value, but she wasn’t interested in using him and that was now painfully obvious to him.   What he did for a living wasn’t of importance.  Hell, she barely acknowledged the celebrity aspect of his life. 

She loves you, asshole.

She’d put her own family on the back burner to accommodate him.  It was his responsibility to be in New Jersey with his kids for the holidays, but she had changed all of her plans to make sure they could be together for the holidays, too.  He’d only repaid that consideration with what probably appeared, to her, to be ambivalence. 

You’re such a dick!

Shaking his head with disgust, Jon rolled his forefinger over the volume knob to crank it up one more notch.  The beat of the music was like Rachel.  Strong, distinct, powerful, ballsy – even a little rowdy.  You couldn’t ignore either of them – the song OR Rachel.

When the guitars stopped mid-song and the singer’s voice was accompanied only by drums, Jon couldn’t help but chuckle at the lyrics that followed. 

She’s unavoidable, I’m backed against the wall

She gives me feelings that I’ve never felt before

I’m breakin’ promises, she’s breakin’ every law

She used to look good to me,  now I find her…

Simply Irresistible

Feeling lighter than he had in two days, his grin widened into an eye-wrinkling smile as he sang along.  “She’s so fine…  there’s no tellin’ where the money went-ah.  She’s all mine… there’s no other way to go.”

His foot gave just a little more pressure to the accelerator as he became determined that not working things out with Rachel just wasn’t an option.   He couldn’t risk losing her because of his own stubborn refusal to make the first move.   He absently tapped the steering wheel in rhythm to the beat of the classic song and Jon sang along, knowing his girl was only minutes away and this night wouldn’t end before he made things right with her.

She’s a craze you’d endorse, she’s a powerful force,

You’re obliged to conform when there’s no other course

Well, she used to look good to me, but now I find her….Simply Irresistible.”

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her wrapping was finished, the mess was cleaned up and the packages had been arranged neatly under the tree.  After her ritualistic soaking in the bathtub, Rachel dried off and let her hand hover over the selection of body lotions on her vanity.  A silent moment of deliberation had her choosing  one of the body lotions that Jon left for her in the SoHo apartment on the night she first stayed there. 

Rubbing in the creamy concoction, she recalled how he had wanted everything perfect for her that night.  From the silk La Perla robe to the endless array of bath products beautifully wrapped and displayed on the bed, everything had been perfect.

It was one more nail in her self-imposed coffin, and she was ashamed of the careless way she’d treated him.  A weary sigh filled the silence of the big bathroom as she slipped the champagne-colored robe over her arms and cinched the belt into a bow.   For about half a second, she toyed with the idea of heading over to his house, but, considering he wouldn’t even take her call earlier, he surely wouldn’t welcome her just showing up at his door.

She missed him…  Longed for him if she was going to be totally honest about it.  It wasn’t as if they were separated by vast miles and that was the reason for them being apart.  She could deal if that were the case.   But this? 

I don’t know where to begin to fix this mess. 

Rachel’s desperate thoughts were interrupted by the elaborate chiming of the doorbells. 

Who the hell is ringing my doorbell at this hour of the night?

Could it be?  After this long, miserable evening, could it actually be…?

At that hour, she reasoned, it couldn’t be anybody but him. 

Halfway down the stairs, she saw him. They locked eyes through the expansive glass columns that made up the front doors of the property she’d come to think of as home.   Once opened, she stepped back and allowed him to cross the threshold into the foyer.

“Hey…” he greeted her softly.

Rachel’s brain either went into overdrive or completely short-circuited, because she was unable to speak one word.  She could feel her eyes get wet and her throat go dry, and then Jon’s hands glided down her hips to hug the curve of her bottom as his lips just barely touched hers.   The whispered touch of his hands and lips was more intense and arousing than if he’d snatched her into a fervently passionate embrace. 

She couldn’t recall ever being more turned on in her life than she was at that very moment.

She wasn’t sure if it was the cold night air from the open door or pure desire that caused a shiver so intense that she actually shook from it.  Jon never broke eye contact when he kicked the door shut with his heel and leaned into her for another soft kiss.

Her hands instinctively rose from her sides to his chest and slid all the way up until his neck was tucked into the crooks of her elbows so she could pull him close.   She clung to him as if she were holding on for dear life and felt her tears run between their cheeks. 

One hand made its way to cradle her neck as he twisted his face towards hers for a soul-searing kiss.  His tongue felt cool at first, warming as it darted in, out and around her mouth.  But that was nothing compared to the feel of his icy hands on her just-bathed skin when he untied her robe and slipped his hand over her breast.  

The sensation caused her to gasp and then tug at the bottom of his sweater, desperately jerking it up and over his head. 

Skin.  His on hers.  It felt like a lifetime since they’d touched like this.

The stairs were inattentively navigated as they kissed, sucked, nipped and licked anything they that got close enough to their mouths.  By the time they reached the top, Jon’s thumb was playing havoc with her clit, causing her to shamelessly claw at his belt and make her embarrassingly wet.

Rachel knew they’d made it to the bedroom when she felt the mattress at the spot where her thighs met her buttocks and slid her hands down the back of Jon’s jeans pushing them into a heap on the floor. 

She didn’t know where his boots were, but his bare feet were beside hers just before he grasped the back of her thigh and lifted her leg up to wrap around him.  He slid inside her and positioned them both onto the bed in one effortless movement. 

Neither of them uttered a word.  Instead, their bodies said everything they’d been too proud to say: “I love you.”  “I’m sorry.”  “I didn’t mean it.”

They were still rocking, stroking and kissing in the aftermath when Jon stilled.  His elbows at the side of her head, fingers stroking her face, he was the first to break the silence.   “I don’t wanna lose you, Rach.”

Tracing the indentation at the small of his back, Rachel thought this must be the most intimate, vulnerable moment they’d ever shared and felt the tears welling again.  “I’ve taken you for granted.  I didn’t realize it until today.”  Her voice caught in her throat as he wiped the teardrops away with his thumbs.  “I’m so sorry… so sorry.”

“Why would you say something like that?  You haven’t taken me for granted at all.”

“I have.   I should know better than to assume there’s a tomorrow.  I didn’t even notice all the little things that make you so special.  I’ve virtually ignored your professional life and I know I haven’t made you happy lately.”

Jon moved to lie at her side, resting his hand on her abdomen, their bodies still touching.  “Of course you’ve made me happy.  Very happy.  Where would you get a different idea?”

“I… came across a concert video of yours on You Tube while listening to Christmas music.  You were enjoying yourself so much, and you don’t look like that when you’re with me.  I realized, among other things, that I’ve been so selfish and I haven’t paid ANY attention to your work…” Her voice broke again and she took a deep breath, struggling to regain her composure enough to finish explaining herself.   “I haven’t even cared enough to buy your last record.  I’ve been such a selfish bitch.”

Her tears dried in the space of one snorted bark of laughter from Jon.  “Honey, you have not been a selfish bitch.  If you knew the lyrics to every one of my songs I’d be a little creeped out.  That’s  a fan.  And don’t read so much into what our show projects.  Yeah, I love performing but that kind of energy can’t be sustained.  Nobody can be that ‘on’ all the time.  It’s a couple hours and I love it, but it has no relevancy to us or what makes me happy off the stage.”  He gently tapped a finger against the tip of her nose as he continued.  “It’s a SHOW…I’m supposed to be over the top happy and excited.”

Her response was so quiet Jon leaned closer to hear her.  “It was impressive, seeing the way the crowd responded to you.  This huge room of people – all under your spell.  If you told them to stand, they stood.    And the sound – the band – was amazing.  It’s obvious you're more than a pretty face with a good voice.  It’s been a lot of hard work and I’m sorry I never acknowledged it.”

“Rach, I don’t need your praise for what I do on the stage.  I need exactly what I have in you… somebody that tells me the truth.  Or, as Richie so eloquently put it, ‘somebody who tells me when I’m being a dick’.  Off the stage, I need ‘real’.  That’s what we have.”

Turning onto her side to face him, Rachel’s leg found its way between his, seeking to close any tiny gap between their two bodies. 

“Lately, it seems like all we do is fight and we fight dirty with each other, Jon.” 

“I agree.  We do fight dirty, and that’s something we’re gonna have to work on.”  His head propped up on one hand, Jon’s free hand slipped across her hip and rested in the small of her back.  “I’m sorry for the things I said.  I know you said apologizing doesn’t take it back, and you’re right, but I do regret the things I said and the way I said them.”

“So am I, but I want you to promise me that we’ll never be those two people who loved each other and then turn into vicious animals when it's over.  That would break my heart.”   Rachel’s eyes begged his indulgence as she struggled to get the words out.  “If… we can’t work things out, I want us to walk away with love and respect.  It would… kill me for us to keep hurting each other until there’s nothing left of the ‘us’ that is so beautiful.”

“Rachel, do you know what I realized tonight?  For me, not being together isn’t an option.  But I wanna know you’re in the same place.  Are you?” 

Their relationship was at that crucial fork in the road where attraction, chemistry and even love weren’t enough.   They had some very basic differences in their points of view and Rachel knew it was time to lay all their cards on the table. 

Chatper 62

“Man, you left your ‘Prince Charming’ in your other pants.”

Richie Sambora had his problems and issues, but he would never have made the mistake Jon had just confessed to making.  You just did NOT cancel plans with your hot, new girlfriend to take the ex-wife and kids to the biggest social event of the year.  How could Jon not know that?

The guitarist had been the one blessed with the gift of charm, instinctively knowing how to treat the girls and lure them in.  Jon, on the other hand, had always played on his good looks to snag the ladies.  While he was smoother than silk onstage with just the right amount of flirtation and sexual innuendo, offstage he was a klutz with the opposite sex. 

According to Jon, he’d left Rachel’s the night before and hadn’t spoken to her since. His initial excuse was that he’d been busy writing ever since Richie had arrived earlier in the day and now, well… He seemed to be too drunk to give a shit. 

Or too stubborn.

“Yeah.  And my Cinderella feels like she stayed too long at the Ball.”  Jon uncorked another bottle of wine – their  fourth since dinner – and refilled both glasses before slumping back onto the couch of his famed Pub, The Shoe Inn. 

“There’s a song in there somewhere, my friend.”

Caramel hair shook as he dropped his head to the back of the leather sofa and barked with laughter.  “Yeah, probably.  Maybe we can spin it into a happy ending and it’ll be the next big hit.”

“I don’t mind tellin’ ya, I think you stepped on your dick on this one….” 

He’d seen the lead singer with a lot of girls over the years – before, during and after his marriage – but it was unusual for Richie to see his friend and partner so hung up on a woman.   In fact, he was so hung up on Rachel that Richie found it hard to imagine him making such a dumbass blunder.

“She’s over-the-top excited about a stupid Christmas party at Warren Buffet’s, but she couldn’t care less about the Inauguration, the Gala  - none of that shit impresses her.  She’s not remotely interested in politics, Rich.   I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“It should concern you that those few words make it crystal clear to me what the problem is and yet you don’t see it yourself.  You hurt her fuckin’ feelings!  She wasn’t going with you so she could be seen on your arm, she was going because you’re into all that shit.  And you dissed her so you could take your ex-wife.  This is one of those times you are definitely not the brains of this operation.”

“Oh, hell Rich… Who knows what Rachel thinks?  She is the most stubborn, hard-to-read woman I’ve ever known.” 

Jon’s frustrated sigh and complete lack of clarity on the matter of his love life was entertaining as hell.   It wasn’t often that, outside of their musical partnership, Richie was the rational expert.  But women?  He practically had a PhD in women - they were his area of expertise, second only to his guitars, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

“It wasn’t too long ago you were telling me you’d never met anybody like her and never had the whole package with one woman, but you had found it with Rachel.  She was perfection with tits.  But now?  Now she’s stubborn and hard-to-read.”  Richie reached across the arm of his chair to slap his buddy on the leg.  “You know why you think she’s stubborn?  Because she’s not a ‘yes man’.  She tells you the truth.  Everybody needs someone to tell them the truth.  I mean, seriously man, you gotta have somebody that will tell you when you’re being a dick.”

Jon skimmed his unshaven face with his fingers before rising from the couch to signal end of the evening.   “All I know is I’ve had so much to drink that that entire conversation sounds like it needs to be put to music.  What melody goes with ‘You gotta have somebody that will tell you when you’re being a dick’?  That sounds like a hit to me.”

After a grunted “G’night” inside the main house, the two men went to their separate quarters.

From the window of the Pub and based on the darkness of her house, Jon had taken note that Rachel had gone to bed.  She hadn’t called him all day, and now she was curled up in her bed without him.  Worse than that, Jon was going to have to face his bed without her. 

He might be drunk…  Well,  he was drunk.  Very drunk.  But he wasn’t drunk enough to rid himself of the thought – the certainty – that if he lost Rachel, he’d regret it every day for the rest of his life… and that she would be on his mind when he died. 

Those lyrics were in one of his songs, but he was much too drunk to remember which one.

                                                         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel stood in the family room of ‘her’ house admiring the Christmas tree that had just been delivered. 

The previous day had been hectic with work and it was past nine o’clock at night before she’d had a break and realized Jon hadn’t even tried to get in touch with her that day.   When she’d gone upstairs to bed, she could see lights on at the recording studio across the road and briefly considered calling him.  She came to the conclusion that since he hadn’t felt the need to right the wrongs, she was not going to make the first move.  He owed her that much. 

Doesn’t he?

Today, however, had been relatively easy and, with the gates now operating, Rachel had both the time and ability to get out.  The downside to working so much from home was that days could go by without leaving the house and she was not in the mood to be cooped up right now.   It didn’t much matter to her where she ended up as long as it was out of this house.

So where did she end up?  Rachel found herself at a greasy little diner.  It was the same diner Jon had taken her to the weekend she met his parents and kids for the first time, but she shrugged off those memories, trying to convince herself that she was enjoying the breakfast and solitude. 

Enjoying breakfast and solitude included taking in the scenery out the diner window and, across the road from the restaurant, she discovered there was a Christmas tree lot.   Rachel impulsively decided she was not going to wait for Jon before indulging in her favorite pastime of the holiday season – decorating the tree. 

Ordinarily, she was the kind of girl who wanted to see every tree on every lot in town.  Today, she knew she was just going through the motions when she bought the first tree she saw, paying extra for the vendor to install lights and deliver the Noble Fir to the house.

 

With boxes of ornaments from the local home interior store stacked on the floor, the usually delightful task of decorating for the holidays now seemed more like a chore.  She just was not in the mood.  Even at that, an obstinate Rachel decided that Christmas music would surely solve that, and the local cable TV servicer had a channel designated for holiday music videos.  Switching the TV on, as well as the gas fireplace to further enhance the scene,  she began to unbox her array of ornaments.

Between answering emails and phone calls, none of which was from her rock star neighbor, Rachel had created a reasonably festive tree by early evening. 

Next on the list:  wrapping presents. 

The kitchen island was covered in boxes, paper and bows.   She was doing her best to find her holiday spirit and ignore that it was the end of the second full day of silence from Jon.  Deciding her holiday spirit might be lurking in the bottom of a bottle of tequila, Rachel decided that the addition of a healthy-sized margarita would surely enhance the mood and chase the bah humbug out of her. 

The lime was sliced and the rim of the glass had just been salted when Jon’s unmistakable voice came piping through the television.  His crooning declaration that  “bells will be ringing” had her head snapping up fast enough to cause a case of whiplash.

Are you kidding me?

Based on the length of his hair and the earrings in his ears, the video was obviously old, but the  hands that roamed over Cindy Crawford’s body looked just the same.  That slow sensuality was keenly reminiscent of the way he’d moved his hands over her body a hundred different times.  The two-dimensional image taunted her and elicited an unwanted stirring somewhere deep inside her. 

The time it took to locate the remote control to the TV amongst all the wrapping materials only twisted the knife and forced her to listen to more of his sultry Christmas caroling.   The man whose voice she hadn’t heard in two days was taunting her as he seduced a supermodel for the cameras as she plundered through the mess.  Throwing aside the sweaters for her dad and brother-in-law, the elusive remote was unearthed.  Rachel snatched it up and aimed it at the TV, stabbing the power button before the damn thing could scorch her fingertips. 

Blessed silence fell over the house as Jon was cut-off in mid-phrase. 

Desperate to keep her holiday cheer on track, she resorted to the video archives of YouTube and user XMAScheerio’s thoughtfully shared playlist.  The quality might not be as good, but it would  allow her the same access to sounds of the season.  Re-setting her sails and righting the disheveled heap of gifts, she forced herself to get  back into the groove with videos of Elvis, Mariah Carey and Bing Crosby playing in the background.

Her wrapping was quickly completed under their melodic watch and the last of the colorful paper had just been stashed in the kitchen pantry when the sounds of jingle bells rang.  Not the song, but actual jingling bells tinkled from her speakers. 

Something about the sounds of those bells had always brought a child-like giddiness to possess her.   It was enough to make her look up at the computer screen with delighted anticipation just as, once again, Jon’s familiar voice called out.  “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Good Lord!

He started off with “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town”, which would’ve been bad enough, but then he went into “Run, Run Rudolph” in full-on rock star mode.  He hadn’t gotten far into the first verse before she found herself stifling a reluctant grin.  

He was cute.  In a hot and sexy kind of way.  In all their time together she’d never seen him perform, and his appeal was undeniable.  The subtle way he moved his hips was oddly arousing.  His toned arms glistened with sweat and were and oh-so-familiar.  

And he was hers.

Or was he?  He hadn’t called, after all.

Neither have you!

They hadn’t reached out to one another in two solid days – unheard of for them even on the busiest of days. 

Rachel’s heart began to race as she watched him move about the stage, recalling every line of his body, every freckle even.  And especially the darker freckle so far below the “V” on his abdomen that it never showed in any picture. 

The desire to touch him was almost more than she could resist. 

This is the same man who ripped your heart out 48 hours ago and hasn’t lifted a finger to make it right.

Her quarrelsome thoughts were thrown aside and her attention returned to the video. 

He was having fun, his mood playful and he seemed… happy.   When Rachel recalled their recent days, she knew he’d been none of those things.  Where they’d once been relaxed and loving with each other they were now hostile, hurtful and – worse still – silent . 

You aren’t completely blameless either.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter who was right or who was wrong, it only mattered that they were together.   She could fix that.  After all, he was only a phone call away. 

She grabbed her cell phone and dialed his number, anticipation so extreme she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.  It took forever for the first ring to go through, and as soon as it did she started pacing a restless path around the island.

Come on, baby…  Answer the damn phone.

He had to answer.  She’d broken down and called, for God’s sake.  If she was willing to take that first step, then he was obligated to answer.  Right??

It took a total of six heart-stopping, hair-graying, life-shortening rings before Rachel finally heard his voice.  Her heart leapt into her chest and an apology was on her lips when she realized it was only the damn voicemail greeting. 

Fuck!

Dejectedly disconnecting the call without leaving a message, Rachel put the phone down and stood with her hands on the counter, numb with sadness.   

He doesn’t even want to talk to you!

The Christmas video ended and she was momentarily distracted from her dejection as an entire world of Bon Jovi media appeared at the sidebar.  Intrigued,  Rachel scrolled down, both amazed and impressed at the sheer volume of material.  Song after song after song.  Professional music videos, fan videos, live performances, studio tracks.  The list went on for what seemed like days.

A random click brought a leather-clad Jon center stage and in the limelight for “Great Balls of Fire”.
 

It wasn’t a close-up shot of him, but more of a small man in the center of a huge stage, in the middle of a huge arena.  She was stunned at the number of people in the audience.   Stunned. 

The song itself was relatively short, but for a few moments after the song ended Rachel was introduced to the indisputable charisma of the man who now seemed to want nothing to do with her.   He prowled the stage like a lion on the hunt, commanding the crowd to rise.   “Get up out of your seats!  This isn’t television, people! Let’s go!” 

She watched in awe as they rose to their feet, willing to give the singer whatever he demanded of them.

Beyond noticing the impact Jon had on the crowd, Rachel took notice of the great sound of the music and the band, realizing she’d never shown much interest – well, no interest – in his professional life or accomplishments.  She didn’t even own his latest record.  In fact, she couldn’t tell you the name of it if her life depended on it.  She’d given him no pat on the back, nor kudos for his achievements – outside of singing his praises in the bedroom. 

She had taken him for granted and began to wonder if that was what made him seem to still cling to his ex-wife.  Dorothea obviously gave him something she didn’t.  Was this the gap in Jon’s life that Rachel couldn’t seem to fill?  Whether it was or it wasn’t, there was a side to Jon and his life that Rachel knew absolutely nothing about, and hadn’t bothered to show any interest in. 

The same couldn’t be said of Jon.   He’d been interested in her business life and accomplishments from the beginning.  

Dumbfounded, Rachel marveled at her new found crystal clarity.  It was as if someone had removed a blindfold from her eyes and allowed her to see the chaos she’d created in her blindness.  This mess was her own fault. 

No wonder he wouldn’t answer her call.  She’d been a heinous bitch!