Here With You (A Laurel Heights Novel) - By Kate Perry Page 0,43

up his guitar.

Wrapping the towel around her, she went to her doorway, closer but not so close that she'd interrupt him. She wanted to hear what he was playing.

She stilled, holding her breath. She hadn't heard this tune before. Was it the new one he was working on? She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she was something of an expert on his music. His first album had been brilliant, and his next one had been good but not as innovative and fresh.

Not like whatever he was playing now.

It still sounded like him, with his signature simplicity and raw power, but this had a layer of dark longing that she hadn't heard from him before.

The music paused, and then he repeated one section. She wrapped the towel around her, securing the end, and went into the living room. "Play the whole thing for me again."

He started over without missing a beat, watching her the entire time. He played through to the refrain twice, then the next time he began to sing with the song. "I'm here with you. Kiss me, take me, love me. I'm here for your pleasure, I'm here for you..."

Goose bumps rose all over her arms. It felt like he sang it not just to her but for her. She shouldn't make a big deal out of it—it was what he did. He was expert at making people feel like he was singing just to them, even in a crowd of sixty-thousand people.

But this felt different. No matter how much her brain cautioned her heart, she just couldn't make it believe that this wasn't special. Like he sang it directly to her heart. At least her heart felt that way.

As though her heart belonged to him.

Her breath caught in her chest. Panic.

But it was silly to panic. She was overreacting. What she was feeling was the pull of great sex, not some elusive thing that she wasn't ready for.

He finished, trailing off, and she said, "Sing it again."

He tipped his head and began over.

She closed her eyes to listen to it this time, not wanting to be distracted by the intensity he aimed at her. She wanted to hear the song itself.

It was good. Really good. Even better than the first time.

She reopened her eyes as he began the refrain and sang along with him. "I'm here with you now. Kiss me, take me, love me..."

He stopped singing, letting her voice soar on its own. She sang what she remembered of the chorus, the last note trailing off with his guitar.

"You still have a great voice," he said.

She shrugged. "It's rusty. I only sing along to Pandora at work."

"Why is that? I've had backup singers who don't have the skill you do."

"Music's always been your thing, not mine. You have to have passion for it to make a living at it, like you do. I just don't have that in me."

"What do you have a driving passion for?"

Right now? Him.

Her parents always told her everyone had a purpose. It just took some people longer to figure out what theirs was. In the meantime you had to be open and try new things, because you never knew what might become a passion.

She'd never imagined Grif would become a passion.

But was it enough?

No. The answer was immediate and concrete. She knew she needed a passion that was all her own, and Grif would never be only hers. She needed something private, just for her.

She sat on the edge of the couch. "I think you don't realize how lucky you are to have known from childhood what you wanted to do with your life. It doesn't come so easy to everyone."

"You've been trying things for a long time," he pointed out. "Nothing's struck you?"

She liked to draw lingerie, but it seemed a long ways from having that be her calling. "I haven't found the right passion yet," she said finally.

"What about designing underwear?" he said, as if reading her mind.

"That's just something I do."

"And you're good at it. Really good at it. You wouldn't be able to draw like that if you didn't have a passion for it."

Just the thought of trying to launch a lingerie line made her hyperventilate. She didn't have the first clue how to go about it, much less manufacture the pieces. She shook her head. "It's just a hobby. I prefer working at Romantic Notions."

"Because it's safe." He set his guitar down. "How long are you going to stay there? You know you don't stick