Moments In Time by Mariah Stewart Page A

around and around. Albums turn into tours that lead to the next album that turns into the next tour…” His voice trailed off.
    “Somehow I have to think there’s more to it than that.”
    “Well, obviously I’ve oversimplified things a bit, but that’s the bottom line. It’s a business like any other business.”
    “How long is this tour?”
    “Twenty U.S. cities. We started in Europe, toured there for two months. Then three months here, a few dates in Canada, then home for however long.”
    “So you’ve been traveling since, what, December, January?”
    “Late December.”
    “Did you travel a lot last year, too?”
    “Not quite as much. We did the album we’re promoting now. Before that I got tied up helping a friend do an album.” He thought back to the six months he’d spent working with Glory Fielding on that atrocity of hers. Where had his brain been when he was getting roped into that? Somewhere between his waist and his knees, he suspected, in a portion of his anatomy that lacked the ability to think. “The year before we toured almost constantly.”
    “I couldn’t live that way,” she noted. “I’m too focused. I take too much comfort from the familiar. I like going to work in the same place every day, seeing the same faces, coming home to the same place every night, seeing my family whenever I want.”
    They lay in silence again. He thought back to the many women he’d slept with over the years—seldom the same woman more than once, none of whom had made a lasting impression on him. Even his affair with Glory had been marked with a certain detachment; he’d never really been close to her, had never been in love with her the way the press had played it up. For all her beauty and wildness, she’d never really touched him. No one ever had until he’d met this woman who now lay so close beside him.
    She stirred in his arms, and he looked down at her. Something about her made him feel so good, so together. “Jamey?”
    “Hmmmmm?”
    “Kiss me good night.”
    He bent his head down to kiss her and was surprised to find her wanting more than just one kiss. He was extremely happy to accommodate her.
    The next morning he awoke and reached for her instinctively. She wasn’t there. He half panicked. Had he dreamed what he had thought to be the best night of his life?
    The sound of the hair dryer from the bathroom assured him that all was as he remembered. He lay back on the pillow, glad that he had followed his instincts and stayed with her, despite a few early awkward moments. She emerged from the bathroom, fresh from the shower, looking squeaky clean and fresh-faced. It took every bit of his self-control not to reach out and pull her to him.
    “Good morning. Sleep okay?” Her sunny smile dazzled him.
    “Fine,” he replied, though he’d hardly slept at all. He wasn’t used to going to bed so early, and besides, he’d never had feelings for anyone like the ones she brought out in him. They kept him awake all night, terrifying him and making him blissfully happy at the same time. “How ’bout you?”
    “Great.”
    She probably had. She looked rested and terrific.
    “What time is it?” he asked.
    “Almost seven.”
    He groaned. “Middle of the night for some folks.”
    She laughed. “Actually, this is a late morning for me. I’m usually up before six to run, which I obviously can’t do until I get a little more strength back in my ankle.”
    “I have never understood why anyone would want to get up at the crack of dawn, use a full day’s worth of energy in the first hour, and then be exhausted for the rest of the day,” he said flatly.
    “It doesn’t exhaust me. Actually, I have much more energy when I run in the morning. It feels good. And it gives me time to sort out problems, think things over. It more or less pumps me up for the day, gets my mind and body in gear.”
    “Well, if last night was any indication of your body being in gear, then I say, don’t mess with