Read Wrecked (Stories of Serendipity #8): #8 for Free Online

Jason. “Can you work your way around Let’s Do It ?”
    Jason grinned at him good-naturedly. “Cole Porter? I think I can manage.” Truth be told, he loved that song and had memorized most of the horn parts and melodies on sax at an extremely early age.
    He watched Renae while he played the opening lick and saw realization dawn just before Les started belting out the lyrics taking over the melody on the guitar. The blush that stained her cheeks was priceless, and Jason only felt a little bad for having the attention forced on her this way. But she was so damned good looking he was sorry he hadn’t been thinking about her more.
    Les was a great guitar player and had a versatile voice. He could sing Frank Sinatra or Marvin Gaye and then follow up with a real crooner like Etta James. He was really a magician musically, able to make any song his own, and Jason was only filling in some sultry sounds where they were needed. Half the set they hadn’t rehearsed. They just played well together. Jason was having the time of his life, and the scenery wasn’t bad either.
    He continued watching Renae and saw her come to some sort of decision, as about two-thirds of the way through the song, her chin lifted, and she finally met his eyes. The flush still stained her cheeks, but she seemed to be willing herself not to think about it. He saw determination light a fire in her eyes, and he found himself aching to uncover what else lay inside.

Chapter 7

    I f Les ever finished playing, she was going to choke the living daylights out of him. But Claire was first on her list.
    When Claire had sent those drinks up to the stage, Renae heard her tell the waitress what to say, and tried to stop it. She was not some loose floozy who threw herself at the talent no matter how sexy they were. No matter if she still felt guilty for nearly killing him. No matter if watching his fingers on the keys of the saxophone brought visions of the same fingers undoing the buttons on her shirt…
    Before she knew it, the music from the stage had been replaced with music from the DJ, and Renae stood to find Les and give him a piece of her mind. She was mortified. Beyond embarrassed. And it was his fault. She wouldn’t go out with him, so he was going to embarrass her in public?
    She stretched up on her toes to see over the crowd that had formed while she’d been lost in the music to see if she could find the prick when hands at her waist and a breath in her ear stilled her.
    “I believe it’s our dance.” It was him. The saxophone player she’d nearly killed. Jason.
    She turned and could only shrug, since all the air had been sucked out of the room. He was as stunningly handsome as she’d remembered. Gaping at him on stage hadn’t dampened her desire for him one bit. His warm hand enveloped hers as he led her to the dance floor where some slow country song was playing. He wrapped his hand around her waist and tugged her closer than necessary until she was flush against his long hard body. Everyone else was two-stepping, but Jason just buried his nose in her hair and swayed to the music. His exhalations on her scalp sent tingles of desire coursing through her body. Her fingers clutched his broad shoulders and she buried her face in the lapels of his jacket, inhaling his aroma.
    The spicy musk brought to mind the day of the accident, and she raised her head to look at his face.
    “I’m sorry about the accident. I was a bit foggy that day, and I don’t know what happened.”
    He smiled at her, the crinkles around his eyes becoming more pronounced. “It’s okay. I flew high the rest of the day. Something about the adrenaline rush of surviving. It’s a real pick-me-up.” He lowered his head back to where it had been before and inhaled again before continuing. “So… Renae. What do you do?”
    His voice turned her insides to mush, or else she’d had too much to drink. “I’m a bank teller. You?” She turned her head to the side and saw Les