by Teri Wilson
It had been a while since he’d set foot inside the Bennington. Years. But the sight of the grand lobby, with its shimmering chandelier, expansive floor and elegant columns, took him right back. Not just to his past, but to the past—the era he loved most. The Jazz Age.
A ribbon of nostalgia wound its way through him, and somewhere in the back of his head, he heard a Count Basie song. Then he saw the sign tucked into the far corner of the lobby, and his suspicions were confirmed.
Mystery solved.
“The Circle Club?” He glared at Chance. “You’ve dragged me to a jazz club?”
Chance glared right back at him. “No. I’ve dragged you to a soon-to-be jazz club. It’s not open yet.”
“Then there’s nothing to see or hear. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel and stalked back toward the revolving doors. How the hell had he let Chance lead him down here to begin with?
Chance caught up with him when he reached the spot beneath the huge hanging clock in front of the registration desk. Sooner than he would have liked. He would have actually preferred not to see Chance’s face again for the foreseeable future. Julian wasn’t an idiot. He knew where this was going.
“Come on, man. Hear me out,” Chance said. “The club doesn’t open for another month, and they’re looking for performers.”
And there it was.
Julian spun around. “I don’t play the trumpet anymore. You know that,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You play the piano,” Chance said calmly. Too calmly, actually. He’d obviously given the matter some thought and was prepared for whatever arguments Julian threw at him.
“I play the piano for a ballet company. Anyone with half a brain could do it. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly Thelonious Monk.”
Chance shrugged. “But you could be.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Clearly he had, or they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Thelonious Monk was a legend. Julian most assuredly was not.
Not anymore, anyway.
“You’re a songwriter. You’ve been a songwriter since the middle school talent show.” Sometimes Julian really hated that Chance had known him for so long. “You don’t need a trumpet to write songs.”
Technically, that might be true. But not for Julian. He couldn’t just start over. Not now. Even if he could stand the humiliation, he doubted he still had what it took to climb back up again from the bottom. Making it in the music world took more than talent. It took drive and determination. A hunger for success.
He’d been hungry once. He wasn’t anymore. Now he was just tired. So damned tired.
Whatever Chance expected from him was too much. Playing the piano was one thing. Writing music—performing, for crying out loud—those were different things entirely. Things that belonged in the past. In a life that was no longer his.
“Forget it. Not happening,” he said and realized his hand had stopped tapping against his leg. His arms now hung loosely at his sides. The Count Basie tune in his head had gone quiet.
Chance sighed. “Just tell me you’ll think about it.”
“There’s nothing to think about.” He was practically yelling now. People in the hotel’s opulent lobby were beginning to stare. Julian didn’t care. He just needed Chance to stop. For once and for all. “Look, I took the job. I’m back on my feet. You can quit now. You’re officially off the hook.”
“Off the hook?” Chance’s tone had a sudden bite to it. “You think this is about the accident?”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t that what everything has been about for the past two years? The visits, the job and now this?” He waved an arm toward the sign for the future The Circle Club. The letters were gold leaf on black, straight out of The Great Gatsby.
“Actually, no. This is about friendship.” Chance took a step closer, directly into Julian’s personal space. Were they going to actually fight about this? Brawl in the Bennington like F. Scott Fitzgerald would have done back in the day?
Maybe.
Doubtful, though. As satisfying as it might be to take a swing at Chance’s meddling face, Julian would feel like a grade-A ass later on if he actually went through with it.
He sighed. “You can stop feeling guilty, Chance. It wasn’t your fault. You were the one behind the wheel, but it could have just as easily been me. We’re even. You don’t owe me a thing.”
Tension rolled off Chance in waves. Julian had underestimated how much he was invested in this whole jazz club idea. Of course, that didn’t change anything. Julian still wanted nothing to do with it. “For the record, I never thought I owed you. I just hate seeing you like this.”
“Then stop looking.” Julian’s clenched his fists at his sides.
He needed to get out of there. Away from Chance, and away from his nonsensical expectations. He’d put up with his friend’s gentle prodding since the day he’d come home from the hospital. As much as he hated it, he’d managed to ignore it. He figured whatever weird sort of survivor’s guilt Chance felt would eventually wear off. After all, Julian wasn’t dead.
But it wasn’t wearing off. If anything, it was getting worse. Now he wanted Julian to write songs again? To get up and perform in front of an audience? Not just a bunch of dancers who thought of him as a prop, but a roomful of people who’d paid a cover charge to see him?
Hell, no.
Next he’d expect Julian to do something about his attraction to Tessa. Yeah, that wasn’t happening either. He wasn’t about to give Chance that kind of satisfaction.
Is that the only thing holding you back?
No. Julian had his reasons, though. Good ones. The number one reason happened to be the fact that relationships led to pressure and expectations, and he was experiencing enough of those at the moment. The number two reason was as plain as the scar on his face.
There were scars, obviously. Chance had been removed from the vehicle before the fire started. Julian hadn’t been so lucky. He’d suffered third-degree burns on his left side, from his torso to his thigh, before the rescue team had dragged him out.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
He turned around but stopped cold before he could step out from beneath the hanging clock’s shadow. There she was.
Tessa.
In the flesh, as if his thoughts had somehow summoned her.
She was walking through the gilded revolving door, wearing a buttercup-yellow dress and looking like she’d stepped right out of a dream. She had a dog leash in her hand, and the tiny dog Julian had seen her with on the subway was trotting merrily at the end of it.
Julian’s gaze traveled from the fluffy little dog to the graceful turn of Tessa’s wrist as she held the leash to the exquisite planes of her heart-shaped face—emerald eyes, delicate cheekbones, full, kissable lips.
He went hard.
God, she was beautiful. He knew that already, obviously. But seeing her surrounded by so much art deco elegance did something to him. It made him ache. In a good way, like Nina Simone sang about in “Feeling Good.”
She caught his gaze and smiled. Julian glowered at her.
What was going on? Was this some kind of romantic ambush? Had Chance invited her to meet them here? If so, he’d taken things too far. Way too far.
But as Tessa’s smile faded, a guy in an impeccably cut suit swooped to her side and kissed her on the cheek. Tessa tore her gaze away from Julian, wrapped her willowy arms around the stranger and gave him a hug. Julian’s teeth clenched involuntarily.
She was on a date. Marvelous.
“What’s wrong?” Chance sidled up next to Julian and followed his gaze. “Is that Tessa? It is. Damn, she looks fantastic.”
As if Julian hadn’t noticed.
“Let’s go,” he said, but for some idiotic reason, his feet refused to move.
Chance shot him a bemused grin. “Not in such
a hurry to go now, are you, friend?”
* * *
Tessa glanced over Zander’s shoulder as he wrapped her in his arms, searching for another glimpse of the utterly handsome man who’d been staring at her when she walked into the lobby. The utterly handsome, utterly familiar-looking man.
It was him. The piano player. She’d recognize that scowl anywhere.
Sure enough, when Zander released her and took a step back, she got a clear look. Same brooding blue eyes. Same ridiculously masculine jawline.
Same butterflies in her stomach.
“Tessa.” Zander gave her arm a little squeeze.
She dragged her attention back to her brother. “Sorry. I was distracted.” By the musical Prince Charming standing right over there.
Prince Charming? Hardly. Prince of Darkness was more like it. Why was he glaring at her like that? The last time they’d seen each other, they’d had a pleasant exchange. Sort of, anyway. And what was he doing at the Bennington? Her brother had been CEO of the hotel for three years running, and she’d never seen him here before. Chance Gabel either.
“Congratulations!” Zander signed the word, but spoke at the same time. Tessa tried, and failed, to force the sound of his voice into the proper syllables. There were too many extraneous sounds in the hotel lobby—street noises drifting in through the revolving door, telephones ringing, snippets of conversations from the elegantly attired people milling about, the ding of the elevator. Everything blended together into one constant, droning hum.
She forced a smile and nodded. “Thank you. And thanks so much for tonight.”
Truthfully, she’d rather be at home swimming in silence and resting for her first day of rehearsal as a company dancer tomorrow. But her family would never have accepted that she wouldn’t want to celebrate. Unless she told them the truth, which was definitely out of the question.
“We’re all thrilled for you, Tessa. I knew you could do it, you know.” Zander wrapped an arm around her shoulders and then seemed to notice her preoccupation with the piano player’s unwavering gaze.
Tessa swallowed. She felt like she was in some kind of sexy staring contest. And the flutter in her belly seemed like a guarantee she’d never win.
She very purposefully looked away.
Zander’s lips moved. “Do you know him?”
“Yes,” she said while, at the same time, shaking her head. “I mean no.”
Zander lifted a brow. “Which is it? Yes or no?”
“No.” Because she didn’t know him. Not really. Besides, he had a definite air about him that conveyed he didn’t wish to be known. By anyone.
Most of the time, anyway.
There’d been a few solicitous moments—times when he’d trained his gaze on her, and she’d glimpsed an undeniable tenderness in his soulful blue eyes. Moments that had left her inexplicably breathless.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth went dry.
Then to her great embarrassment, Mr. B decided to make a liar out of her by sprinting toward the piano player with such enthusiasm that his leash flew out of her hand.
Oh, my God. “Mr. B! Come back here.”
Tessa watched in horror as her dog launched himself at the enigmatic man, pawing frantically at his shins. She called Mr. B’s name a few more times, but he didn’t bother batting a doggy eyelid in her direction. Mr. B was usually so well behaved. His fascination with Julian was so strange. And so very, very mortifying.
Zander touched her arm again, dragging her attention away from the train wreck in progress. He shot her a sardonic grin. “You might not know him, but your dog certainly does.”
With a sigh, Tessa darted off in pursuit of Mr. B. Zander followed. Of course he did. She couldn’t blame him, she supposed.
It had been a while since she’d been interested in anyone romantically. Not since before her accident. If she’d been born deaf, maybe the fact that she couldn’t hear wouldn’t have felt so isolating. There was a tangle of silence between her and the outside world that most men weren’t interested in unraveling. The fact that Tessa had been too busy adjusting to her new reality to unravel it herself only compounded the problem.
Zander was jumping to the wrong conclusion, obviously. Butterflies notwithstanding, there was nothing romantic going on between her and the piano player. Life had decided to throw her into a tailspin at the most important time in her dance career. She had enough on her plate.
Plus he worked with the ballet company. She obviously couldn’t date him. Or heaven forbid, sleep with him. She didn’t even know his name.
Right. Then why are you picturing it in your head right now?
She blinked. Hard. But somehow she couldn’t quite rid herself of the image of the two of them in one of the Bennington’s luxurious beds.
What was wrong with her?
“I’m sorry.” She bent to snatch Mr. B in her arms and then stood, finding herself eye to eye with the brooding man in question. “So, so sorry.”
His gaze flitted to Zander. Just for a second. When he redirected his attention back to Tessa, his expression remained unchanged. Guarded. But then he lifted his hand and gave her a little wave.
Hi.
The butterflies multiplied a thousandfold. Tessa was surprised she didn’t float right off the ground. “Hi.”
Zander looked back and forth between them. So did Chance. Tessa suddenly felt like she was onstage, part of a duet that she hadn’t prepared for. Hadn’t rehearsed.
She cleared her throat.
Zander stuck out his hand. “Hello. Since my sister apparently isn’t going to introduce us, I’m Zander Wilde.”
“Julian Shine.” He shook her brother’s hand.
Tessa stared intently at his lips, desperate to get his name right. Julian Shine. It sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe she’d seen it somewhere on the ballet company’s website, when she’d registered for her audition.
She wasn’t sure. Likewise, she wasn’t sure if Julian seemed relieved when Zander announced that he was her brother, or if she was reading too much into the loosening of his posture. She tried not to think about it as Chance and Zander exchanged pleasantries and Mr. B squirmed in her arms.
Introductions complete, Zander immediately turned his attention back to Julian. “Julian Shine, as in the Julian Shine?”
The grimace on Julian’s face was unmistakable.
Chance nodded and answered for him. “The one and only.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. Truly.” Zander motioned toward the far corner of the lobby. “Fortuitous, too. We’re opening a jazz bar in a few weeks.”
“Julian and I were just discussing that very thing,” Chance said.
Julian stared daggers at him. Chance didn’t so much as flinch.
“I’d love to sit down and discuss it with you sometime.” Zander grinned.
What on earth was her brother doing?
Had he not noticed the look of extreme disinterest on Julian’s face? His glower could probably be seen from space.
“Um, I don’t think...” Tessa interrupted.
Zander pressed on. “We have a monthly Big Band Night in the ballroom. The next one is two weeks from Sunday. If you come by, I can comp you dinner and a room.”
Julian shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t play anymore.”
Tessa frowned. “Yes, you do.”
“I play the piano,” Julian conceded. “But it’s not the same.”
Not the same? What was she missing? And why had her brother asked him if he was the Julian Shine?
“That’s fine. You don’t need to play.” Zander reached into his pocket for a business card and offered it to Julian. “Just come enjoy the evening.”
“Thank you. I’ll check my schedule.” Julian took the card. Judging from his expression, he was more likely to volunteer for
a root canal than take her brother up on his offer.
He gave Mr. B a pat on the head, waved goodbye to Tessa and disappeared before Zander could entreat him further.
“He’ll be there. I’ll see to it,” Chance said and then fell in step behind his friend.
Zander’s gaze followed them out of the hotel’s spinning door. As did Mr. B’s. Clearly, Tessa wasn’t the only one charmed by the perpetually cranky Julian Shine.
As the two men exited, Tessa’s other family members spun their way inside the building. Her mother. Her cousin. Even her elusive sister.
Before they got within earshot, Tessa gave Zander’s shoulder a firm jab. “What was that?”
Zander frowned at her and adjusted one of his cuff links. “I beg your pardon?”
“With Julian... Asking him about the jazz club and then inviting him to Big Band Night?” She always turned up for that. Her family made sure she did. “Are you trying to set us up?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.” Zander shook his head for added emphasis. “He’s a player. Or at least, he used to be before his accident.”
Tessa’s heart began to beat hard in her chest. “How do you know all of this? And what accident?”
She tightened her hold on Mr. B as the haunting memory of an ambulance siren wailed in her consciousness. It had been the last sound she’d ever heard.
Until Julian’s music yesterday.
“Julian Shine is one of the best jazz musicians of all time. A trumpet player. He’s right up there with Miles Davis and Wynton Marsalis. He was, anyway. He was in a bad car accident a while back. Since then, he’s pretty much been a recluse.” Zander gave her a grim smile. “It’s a shame, really. The guy’s a legend.”
A legend who’d apparently suffered a career-ending accident, just as Tessa had. Finally, an explanation for the permanent frown. Everything was suddenly crystal clear...
Everything except the way Tessa felt when that frown was aimed in her direction. Alive. Special. And seen.
Seen like never before.
Chapter Six
As it turned out, Tessa had a lot more to worry about on her first day of rehearsal than her hearing. Or her undeniable fascination with Julian Shine.