Seduced by Sunday
Page 35
He nuzzled her neck as a lover might. “Careful, Michael . . . wouldn’t want Ryder to get nervous.”
He laughed, grabbed her head with both hands, and laid one on her. It was nice, she had to admit . . . but this was a friend, and other than the physical, she felt nothing. “That should do it,” he said before releasing her.
“No wonder you’re paid big money.”
He wrapped his hand around her and walked back into the club.
All the while, she scanned the bar for one set of eyes and didn’t see them. Not until Ryder was whispering in her ear in the ruse of luring her back inside after an innocent kiss.
“Having a good time?” Val asked as he stepped up to the table.
He knew the game, but he still looked at her with a scrutiny that was afforded the father of a teenage daughter.
She leaned into him, kissed his cheek. “I was wondering if you’d show up.”
His jaw tightened. “Some of the guests wanted an encore.” He motioned toward the stage where one of the employees was uncovering the keyboard.
Meg narrowed her gaze. “You want me to sing for you?”
He pushed her glass away from her when she reached for it. “Before you’re unable to.”
Meg tossed her head back and laughed, and then handed her glass to him with a whisper. “Hard to get drunk drinking water, Masini.”
Vodka wasn’t the evening’s drink by accident. Funny how water and vodka looked alike to anyone watching from far away with a camera.
“Well?” he asked after taking a sip of her water and lifting the edge of his lips in a grin.
Meg lifted a hand to the stage. “Someone needs to introduce me, Valentino.”
He leaned close so only she could hear him. “Why do I feel like a black widow is crawling over my skin, cara?”
She pulled him close with his tie, straightened it. “You worry too much.”
Val was the perfect host. He thanked everyone for coming, let the lighting change in the room long enough to invite Meg to the stage.
Once the audience loosened their hold on their applause, Meg made sure she had everyone’s attention.
“You’d think I’d have a break on my room rate for all the perks I’m giving you, Masini.”
He surprised her with his response. “I’ve been watching your bar bill, Margaret. I think we’re even.”
She laughed. “Which reminds me . . . I could use another round.” She turned on the keyboard, ran through a couple of chords, and made a downward motion to the tech, making sure the sound didn’t push away anyone listening.
“I do my best work after a few drinks.”
Michael laughed above the crowd. She pointed a finger in his direction. “Enough from you.”
The crowd laughed, and within thirty seconds, a vodka on the rocks was sitting on the keyboard.
“I have to admit, Masini . . . this island is beautiful.” She kept talking, the sound of the mic too tinny for her. The sound guy stood in the back of the room and adjusted levels with every word she said. She sipped her drink, added a bit of courage.
The people in the room clapped and she kept talking and adjusting the keyboard. The chords started to sound like an organ, but not something inside a church . . . more like a nightclub. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for a few brass players and a guitar.
“However, I might need therapy after so much time away from the Internet.”
“Hear, hear!”
The room exploded with laughter and a chorus of praise for her observation.
Val leaned against the bar and crossed his arms over his chest.
Last night . . . last night the song, the experience was for her. The love of singing with Jim Lewis wasn’t something she’d ever forget.
Tonight . . .
She started the song . . . waited for the moment the audience realized what she was singing, and stared directly at Val as she gave life to “My Funny Valentine.”
Chapter Thirteen
He’d watched as Wolfe pulled her outside and kissed her. Looked convincing enough for him. Ryder did the job with a tiny fumble. Still . . . it killed him to watch. Val could count on zero fingers how many times it bothered him to watch a woman he’d kissed kiss another man. Well, there was Lissa and Philip in fifth grade, but that didn’t really count. Besides, he had been friends with Philip much longer than he’d wanted to kiss on Lissa.
Now Margaret stood onstage singing. There was no doubt she meant the song for him. Though he didn’t think his looks were laughable, and neither did the snarky crowd, there wasn’t any doubt in anyone’s head that Valentine stood in place for Valentino.
Every cell in his body fired in unison as Meg finished the song.
“Thank you.” She offered a strangely demure bow and left the stage. The DJ cued up a slow song and jumped right in to keep the room alive.
Several people stopped Meg before she wound her way toward her table.
Val cut her off.
More eyes were on them than he would have liked as he took her in hand and dragged her outside.
He walked her around the corner, down a dark hall . . . outside to a location not accessible by many.
She was against the wall, his lips possessing hers before any logical thought could stop him. Good Lord, she was soft and smelled like a breeze off the ocean in spring.
Meg moaned and moved into him. He looked to find her eyes closed, her body lax against his.
This wasn’t a kiss for a camera, he told himself . . . this was a kiss for him. The taste of her filled him, made him crave more. He stroked the back of her neck, tilted her, and moved his lips over the beating pulse at her throat and ran his tongue down the length of it.
He laughed, grabbed her head with both hands, and laid one on her. It was nice, she had to admit . . . but this was a friend, and other than the physical, she felt nothing. “That should do it,” he said before releasing her.
“No wonder you’re paid big money.”
He wrapped his hand around her and walked back into the club.
All the while, she scanned the bar for one set of eyes and didn’t see them. Not until Ryder was whispering in her ear in the ruse of luring her back inside after an innocent kiss.
“Having a good time?” Val asked as he stepped up to the table.
He knew the game, but he still looked at her with a scrutiny that was afforded the father of a teenage daughter.
She leaned into him, kissed his cheek. “I was wondering if you’d show up.”
His jaw tightened. “Some of the guests wanted an encore.” He motioned toward the stage where one of the employees was uncovering the keyboard.
Meg narrowed her gaze. “You want me to sing for you?”
He pushed her glass away from her when she reached for it. “Before you’re unable to.”
Meg tossed her head back and laughed, and then handed her glass to him with a whisper. “Hard to get drunk drinking water, Masini.”
Vodka wasn’t the evening’s drink by accident. Funny how water and vodka looked alike to anyone watching from far away with a camera.
“Well?” he asked after taking a sip of her water and lifting the edge of his lips in a grin.
Meg lifted a hand to the stage. “Someone needs to introduce me, Valentino.”
He leaned close so only she could hear him. “Why do I feel like a black widow is crawling over my skin, cara?”
She pulled him close with his tie, straightened it. “You worry too much.”
Val was the perfect host. He thanked everyone for coming, let the lighting change in the room long enough to invite Meg to the stage.
Once the audience loosened their hold on their applause, Meg made sure she had everyone’s attention.
“You’d think I’d have a break on my room rate for all the perks I’m giving you, Masini.”
He surprised her with his response. “I’ve been watching your bar bill, Margaret. I think we’re even.”
She laughed. “Which reminds me . . . I could use another round.” She turned on the keyboard, ran through a couple of chords, and made a downward motion to the tech, making sure the sound didn’t push away anyone listening.
“I do my best work after a few drinks.”
Michael laughed above the crowd. She pointed a finger in his direction. “Enough from you.”
The crowd laughed, and within thirty seconds, a vodka on the rocks was sitting on the keyboard.
“I have to admit, Masini . . . this island is beautiful.” She kept talking, the sound of the mic too tinny for her. The sound guy stood in the back of the room and adjusted levels with every word she said. She sipped her drink, added a bit of courage.
The people in the room clapped and she kept talking and adjusting the keyboard. The chords started to sound like an organ, but not something inside a church . . . more like a nightclub. Oh, what she wouldn’t do for a few brass players and a guitar.
“However, I might need therapy after so much time away from the Internet.”
“Hear, hear!”
The room exploded with laughter and a chorus of praise for her observation.
Val leaned against the bar and crossed his arms over his chest.
Last night . . . last night the song, the experience was for her. The love of singing with Jim Lewis wasn’t something she’d ever forget.
Tonight . . .
She started the song . . . waited for the moment the audience realized what she was singing, and stared directly at Val as she gave life to “My Funny Valentine.”
Chapter Thirteen
He’d watched as Wolfe pulled her outside and kissed her. Looked convincing enough for him. Ryder did the job with a tiny fumble. Still . . . it killed him to watch. Val could count on zero fingers how many times it bothered him to watch a woman he’d kissed kiss another man. Well, there was Lissa and Philip in fifth grade, but that didn’t really count. Besides, he had been friends with Philip much longer than he’d wanted to kiss on Lissa.
Now Margaret stood onstage singing. There was no doubt she meant the song for him. Though he didn’t think his looks were laughable, and neither did the snarky crowd, there wasn’t any doubt in anyone’s head that Valentine stood in place for Valentino.
Every cell in his body fired in unison as Meg finished the song.
“Thank you.” She offered a strangely demure bow and left the stage. The DJ cued up a slow song and jumped right in to keep the room alive.
Several people stopped Meg before she wound her way toward her table.
Val cut her off.
More eyes were on them than he would have liked as he took her in hand and dragged her outside.
He walked her around the corner, down a dark hall . . . outside to a location not accessible by many.
She was against the wall, his lips possessing hers before any logical thought could stop him. Good Lord, she was soft and smelled like a breeze off the ocean in spring.
Meg moaned and moved into him. He looked to find her eyes closed, her body lax against his.
This wasn’t a kiss for a camera, he told himself . . . this was a kiss for him. The taste of her filled him, made him crave more. He stroked the back of her neck, tilted her, and moved his lips over the beating pulse at her throat and ran his tongue down the length of it.
