Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 Read Online Free PDF Page B

put your hands together for Les Paul, Jason O’Niel, and Brandon Whitcomb!”
    Les immediately opened with the chords for their first song, and Jason felt the tension melt away completely. When his soulful tones came in over the guitar, Brandon jumped in with the rhythm and it sounded like they’d been playing together for years, not days. His fingers caressed the keys of the sax while his breath coaxed music from it. He sent the tones soaring over the heads of the front row of tables in the bar, over the brunette in front with the steely gray eyes that were focused on him alone.
    They were playing a blues song, one of Jason’s favorites to play, and Les’ voice was the perfect accompaniment. It allowed the focus to be off Jason for a bit so he could survey the audience, but his roaming eyes kept colliding with the woman on the front row. Her long auburn hair fell past her shoulders in waves, and her porcelain skin shone radiantly through the hazy air. Her lips caressed her straw as she took dainty sips of her mixed drink, and her smile shone when she laughed with her friends. He was smitten.
    When he realized who she was, he pulled out a measure to catch his breath.
    She was the woman who’d nearly run him over.
    He continued watching her when he resumed playing and saw when the recognition dawned on her slate-colored eyes. The desire in them was a measurable entity in the smoky room, followed quickly by guilt, as her eyes dropped to her lap. She couldn’t seem to keep herself from looking at him, though, as she eventually peered at him from under lowered lashes. And they were long, thick lashes he could see from the stage. After the song was over, he flashed her a smile, which she shyly returned.
    Les went straight into the next song, a rolling beat from the drum-set and sultry tones from the sax, but Jason’s eyes never left the woman. He watched as she sipped the shots her friends bought her, whispered in the man’s ear next to her, and laughed with the group of people who seemed to be friends of Les’. He would have to ask him about her.
    Jason continued watching the woman, reliving the day of the accident. When he’d come to, she’d been straddling him, and damned if he’d been too mad to enjoy it. So much had happened since then. He’d nearly forgotten about it with all the shit with his dad. But he used this time playing his sax to think about the woman and how she’d felt on top of him.
    Les led them into a cover of an old Stan Getz song, one that typically had a female lead, Girl from Ipanema, the guitar plucking the vocal parts while Jason played the melody. It was a fun little song, and Jason pretended it was about her. Long and lovely and tan… she seemed to fit, especially in that white dress. She glanced up at him again, and her body stilled as he held her gaze. Something melted inside him at that moment, and all he could focus on was her, meeting her, talking to her, and apologizing for being an ass about the wreck. She lowered her eyes first, looking down into her lap, when her girlfriend on one side whispered in her ear. She shook her head, tucking a curl behind her ear, before the girl waved over a waitress and handed her some money.
    A short while later, the waitress made her way up onto the stage and passed out shots to the group. They were between songs, and the waitress told Jason, “From the woman in white. She says to dance with her on your break.”
    Jason looked back over at her and noticed she most certainly had not said that. She was gesticulating wildly at her friend, her voice almost audible over the din of the bar. In fact, she looked pissed. He heard Les laughing next to him.
    “If you can get her, good luck. I’ve been trying for years.”
    “What’s her name?” Jason asked.
    Instead of answering, Les spoke into the mic. “Renae, thanks. This next one’s for you. I think Jason’s gonna start asking instead of me…” He murmured something under his breath and turned to