wasn’t one girl he’d heard sing in the past couple of years who was even in her league. The woman delivered a song as if she was born to it. Damn.
He moved his head in wonder as he watched her, her body moving in a naturally sexy sway to the beat of the music, her shapely legs drawing his appreciative gaze despite her strange insistence on keeping her coat on. With the right clothes and make-up this girl would be sit up and beg gorgeous. As good a singer as Marcie had been, she couldn’t hold a candle to Caitlin Ryan in the looks department. He didn’t wholly go along with the idea that a singer needed to be attractive, but good looks certainly didn’t hurt in this business.
Suddenly his desire for sustenance at the local pub dissipated like snow in the desert. Jake was excited again. Enthused. When the mood was on him he could work twenty-four hours a day without a break if he wanted to, and he would willingly do so to get this band on the road again, expecting nothing less than the same commitment from everyone else.
* * *
As the last chords of the music died away Caitlin inhaled a relieved breath to steady herself. Then she reluctantly released the microphone.
Behind her, Steve Bridges blew an appreciative whistle. ‘That was incredible. You absolutely killed it.’
Feeling her face grow warm at the compliment, she was taken aback when the two men who had been watching her vaulted onto the stage.
‘What other bands have you been in?’ Jake demanded.
Glancing back into his mesmerising eyes—eyes the colour of blue ice melting under steam—Caitlin’s heart bungee-jumped to her toes. ‘I—I haven’t been in any other bands,’ she admitted softly.
‘You’re kidding me.’ Rick looked completely nonplussed.
Startled that he didn’t believe her, she widened her eyes in surprise.
‘I wouldn’t pretend about something like that. The truth is I’ve only ever sung for my own amusement and because I’m compelled to. I just love music. I’m passionate about it.’
The rock-hard muscles in Jake’s stomach compressed tightly. He could tell she had passion…had it in spades, he thought. That was the major difference between her and the instantly forgettable wannabes he’d recently auditioned.
‘So you’ve never sung professionally before?’ he queried.
‘No. I haven’t.’ Her huge green eyes were absolutely guileless. Gazing back into their depths was like looking down to the bottom of a clear unsullied lake on a hot summer’s day.
‘So, what do you do to keep body and soul together?’
‘You mean for a living?’ Caitlin sighed. ‘I’m a shop assistant. Remember I told you I had to stand in for the manager earlier today?’
‘And where is the shop?’
‘It’s here in the village, of course.’
Jake was honestly stunned. They’d been auditioning girls from as far afield as Scotland, and this girl—this incredible find of theirs—came from the very village they were auditioning in. It was altogether ludicrous.
Laughing out loud, Rick slapped his leather-clad thigh. ‘Well, if that doesn’t beat it all! You mean for the past four days now we’ve been tearing our hair out trying to find a singer and you’ve been here all the time?’
‘I only found out about the auditions when I saw the ad in the post office. I couldn’t believe it. Nothing as exciting as that ever happens in the village. It seemed…’ she flushed a little ‘…it seemed like a sign.’ Tucking some silky strands of ebony hair behind an ear, Caitlin smiled self-consciously. ‘Anyway…thanks for hearing me and giving me the chance to sing for you. Whatever happens, I really enjoyed it.’
She turned away to climb back down from the stage and leave, but was taken aback when Jake held up his hand, a distinctly puzzled crease straining his handsome brow.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘I’ve got to get back to work. I—I told you…we’re stocktaking. I don’t suppose we’ll finish until late tonight.’
‘Do you want to sing with this band or not?’ he demanded, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.
‘Do you mean…? Are you saying…?’
The stunned look on her face would be almost comical if Jake had a mind to laugh—which he absolutely didn’t.
‘On the strength of the performance we’ve just heard, I think I’d be a fool not to offer you the chance of singing with the band. I think we’re all in agreement that you’re just what we’re looking for.’
Even though he directed a meaningful glance towards Rick and the others, Jake barely needed confirmation of his decision. Not when the final say categorically rested with him.
Eyes narrowing, he continued, ‘But if we take you on you do realise that there’s a hell of a lot of work ahead of you? You may be able to sing, Miss Ryan, but there’s a lot to learn before we let you loose onstage in public. Have you honestly never sung professionally before?’
He didn’t believe her. As exciting as the prospect of singing with the band was, Caitlin knew instinctively that if she accepted the job her relationship with this man was never going to be one made in heaven.
She nervously cleared her throat. ‘I was in a school band from fifteen to eighteen, but I’ve done nothing since then. We only played local functions. Events like Christmas parties, special birthdays and anniversaries…stuff like that’
‘And you were the lead singer?’
‘No. That is…we all sang. There were six of us altogether. But I occasionally played piano and guitar.’
Rick’s eyebrows flew up to his hairline. ‘You’re a musician as well?’
‘Yes. That is, I read music and play a little. I practise whenever I can…at least on my guitar. I no longer have a piano.’
No wonder she knew instinctively exactly where to come in with the vocal, Jake mused. Only someone who was a competent musician or had a natural ear for music could pull that off without rehearsal.
He saw his astonishment reflected back at him when his glance collided with Rick’s.
‘Sweetheart, as far as I’m concerned there’s not the slightest doubt in my mind that you’re the right singer for this band.’ The American smiled, his hand enthusiastically shaking Caitlin’s. ‘By the way, my full name is Rick Young—I’m Blue Sky’s official dogsbody and general “helper-outer”. That means I organise the gigs, make sure the band shows up on time, and most importantly collect the fee at the end of the show. The man standing beside you with the poker face is Jake Sorenson—well-known record producer and the band’s manager. You must have heard of him? Anyway, he’s going to make us all rich one day, like him. You can count on it. If anyone can work miracles round here, Jake can. He’s been in the business so long he’s probably due for a plaque in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.’
‘Very
