Diamond by Sharon Sala

somewhere between awe and despair. But that was before Tommy Thomas came into his life.
    Diamond turned toward Jesse, her eyes shining, the corners of her lips tilted in a rare show of joy. Jesse inhaled sharply. The sudden vision of her lying beneath him with that same expression on her face made him swerve, barely missing a parked van on the street.
    “Hell,” he muttered softly.
    This kind of thinking would get him nowhere. He’d seen the touch-me-not look in her eyes often enough to get the message. Besides, he told himself, he hadn’t dragged her out of Cradle Creek just so he could sleep with her. He wanted to help her build a career. End of story.
    But this thought did little to stem the heat simmering in him as he drove down Music Row toward the recording studio and parked his car. He watched her swing out one long leg and then the other before levering herself into a standing position.
    “I wasn’t built for cars that small,” she said.
    His grin was more like a grimace as he tried not to think of what she had been built for. A vivid image of her sensuous body and long legs made sweat break out on his forehead.
    “Me neither,” he said, trying to forget his earlier fantasy as he settled his black Stetson firmly onto his head. “But I hadn’t yet outgrown my teenage fantasies when I had my first hit song. That car was the result.”
    Diamond grinned at his confession, her eyes dancing with merriment as she tried to imagine a younger, more naive Jesse Eagle. It was impossible. She could see him younger, but naive? That took more imagination than she could muster.
    As he led her across the parking lot, Diamond let the excitement she was feeling overflow. In a few moments she was actually going to see the inside of a recording studio. And, before the day was over, she’d see firsthand what it took to cut an album. There was also the satisfaction that she’d have an excuse to sit and look at Jesse Eagle while it happened. Although she was sleeping in the same house with him and eating at the same table, it was a luxury she had not allowed herself.
    They entered the studio to find that most of the members of Muddy Road, Jesse’s band, had already arrived.
    “Hey, hey, hey, Jess, old boy. I don’t know where you went for vacation, but I want the address. If there’s any more back there like her, I quit.”
    Jesse’s gut jerked. It was an unexpected reaction to his bass guitar player’s remark. For some reason, he took instant offense at the idea of Diamond being the butt of anyone’s joke, no matter how innocent.
    Mack Martin had a reputation with women that the guys in the band often joked about. Jesse didn’t need to see Diamond’s face to know that she was probably angry. He remembered Whitelaw’s Bar and knew that Diamond had certainly heard worse, but that didn’t change what he was feeling. His ability to appreciate the humor in Mack’s attitude had just disappeared.
    A faint blush swept across Diamond’s cheeks, but her expression never wavered as she stared straight into the bearded man’s eyes.
    His long, lank hair was streaked with gray, as was the bushy beard that framed his wide face. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes were hard.
    Diamond watched the guitar bounce against his leg as he rose from a stool and started toward them. The name Mack was woven into the guitar strap. It fit him, she decided. He was as big as a Mack truck and about as ugly.
    He slipped the guitar off his shoulder and enveloped Jesse in a boisterous hug. When Jesse wasn’t watching, he looked Diamond up and down in a suggestive manner, winked, and blew her a kiss.
    “Damn, Mack! I haven’t had a greeting like this since my mother visited. If I’d known you cared, I would have written.” Jesse let the sarcasm in his words substitute for the spurt of anger he felt.
    Mack laughed loudly, as did the rest of the band, and gave Jesse a firm slap on the back.
    Jesse quickly introduced Diamond to the other men,