by Claire Adams
The song came to an end, and the piano player jumped off his narrow bench. "That was great! Damn, girl! I never would have guessed you had it in you. Please tell me we can do another one."
The small crowd filled the little lounge with applause. I looked up to see if he was clapping, too, but he wasn't at the railing. "Is he allowed to do that?" I asked.
The piano player glanced at the narrow, blocked-off staircase that ran from the VIP lounge balcony to backstage. "Him? You mean Penn? Sure."
Penn had jumped the gate that secured the staircase. He jogged down the steps to disappear behind the black velvet curtain. I felt him before he appeared, like a wave surging in the water. Then, he flipped back the curtain and walked around the foot of the stage.
"Tell her she has to sing again, Penn," the piano player begged.
"You really should," Penn held up a hand to help me down from the stage, "later."
"What do you want?" I asked Penn as he pulled me towards the bar.
"To buy you a drink."
"No, thanks."
He turned and grinned down at me. "Why? You only let rich and appropriately-dressed men buy you drinks?"
The quiver in my stomach brought my defenses up again, and I could hear the snobby tone as soon as I opened my mouth. "You must work here to be so free with your drink offers."
Penn blinked. "Work here? No, I don't work here. He does, though. He's a bar-back. And, she's actually the owner of the karaoke lounge."
I looked at the people he pointed out. The woman he named as the owner was petite and wearing an even smaller dress. Her long hair was bleached white and knotted into dreadlocks. The bar-back noticed me looking and waved, his dress shirt crisp and bright in the dim lounge.
"Hard to tell about people because clothes can be deceiving," he said.
I scowled at his smugness. "So, what can you tell about me?"
He looked me up and down, those dark eyes roving over my body with the heat of lasers. "You like slumming it almost as much as you like designer dresses. Though, you really can sing. There's no mistaking that. How come Daddy isn't buying you lessons or your very own record label?"
The heat from his eyes turned to cold ashes at the mention of my father. "You don't know anything about me, Penn. You don't even know my name."
I tipped my head back to give him a defiant glare and was surprised by the soft empathy I saw there. Just being near him was tossing my equilibrium. There was a magnetism I had never felt before that pulled me in even as his words and his appearance repelled me.
Penn took my hand and raised it to his lips. "Please, do me the favor of telling me your name."
I yanked my hand back before he could kiss it, sure the sensation would fry what was left of my rational thoughts. "Corsica."
"The island where Napoleon lived in exile?"
"Sure. Why not?" I often chose not to disclose the origin of my name because I had worked very hard to cut all ties with South Dakota.
A waiter appeared with two drinks that Penn took without hesitation. I didn't understand how the man who looked as if he should be changing people's oil was the one being waited on.
"Why are you here if you don't work here?" I asked.
Penn frowned and swirled the olives in his drink. "I've been summoned to San Francisco by the big boss man. I just didn't feel like rushing right over to wait for him, so I came here. I'm glad I did."
I felt steadier. "So, you get special treatment because everyone knows who you work for? Doesn't that bother you?"
"That would bother me, if it were true. I knew these people when I had nothing, and, yes, the drinks arrive a little faster now, but I haven't changed."
"So, you're from San Francisco?"
I could have let the conversation fizzle. I could have thanked Penn for the drink and walked away. I could have returned to the small table where Ginny was reuniting with an old co-worker.
Except, the longer I was near him, the more I felt tying me to him. His presence sent my system into chaos, but I felt a familiarity with his thoughts and an attraction that was nearly impossible to deny.
Ginny smiled and waved from across the lounge, and I knew I would not be able to deny that Penn was the most interesting man I had met in a long time.
"Yes, though I've never been a good city-dweller," Penn said. "How about you?"
"Here and there."
Penn snorted. "Singers always say that, don't they? So, Corsica, what do you plan to sing next?"
I shrugged. "Depends on what inspires me."
"What inspired that last song?"
I didn't want to admit it even to myself, so I took another sip of my drink and continued walking along the bar. Penn followed, and when I reached the corner near the emergency exit, he tugged me into the short, dim hallway. I didn't resist. It was impossible; I wanted to press my body against his and feel just how hot he could make me.
"What is it about you?" Penn asked on a harsh breath. He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. "You're snobby and stuck up and quick to get the wrong opinion about people."
"So what are you doing?"
"I don't know, but I'm sure it's going to be bad for me."
He leaned down, and I was shocked by the soft brush of his beard. The light chafe of it against my cheek had my lips parting in surprised pleasure. Penn's wide lips were still frowning, but he was about to kiss me.
"Sorry to interrupt," Ginny called. "Remember how I posted where we were going because I was sure he never read my stuff, anyway? Well, I was wrong."
I kept one hand on Penn's hard chest as I leaned around and looked where Ginny pointed. My ex-boyfriend, in his perpetual polo shirt and dark, pristine jeans, stood in the doorway of the karaoke lounge. He blinked as his eyes adjusted and then he scanned the crowd, trying to find me.
Penn stepped back. "Your boyfriend."
"Ex," I snapped.
"He's got this sick sense of when you're doing anything fun," Ginny said. "What, is he afraid if you sing a little karaoke, then you'll run off and go wild?"
"I'd like to see that," Penn commented. He eased around me and back out towards the bar.
I crossed my arms and raised my chin. "I'm not going to go wild just to please you or stop singing just to make him feel comfortable."
"So, you're going to go over there and send him away? I bet I could help with that." Penn's dark eyes glowed with mischief, and he puckered up his lips. "How about that kiss, princess?"
I shoved his chest with both hands. "I don't have time for this, I really don't. I shouldn't have come out in the first place."
"Scared you'd meet someone like me?"
Ginny laughed. "She's not so much scared of having fun as she is overburdened with practicality."
I planted my hands on my hips. "Yeah, because it's so fun not finding a job after graduation. It's really fun having student loans hanging over my head. It's fun having everyone tell me I'm making a big mistake when all I want to do is take care of business first."
I stomped past Ginny and Penn and gave Joshua an angry wave. He saw and gestured for me to join him outside. I shook my head and pointed to the bar. My ex-boyfriend tried to argue across the room, but I found a stool and sat down.
Normally, I enjoyed Joshua's appearance. Even though we were broken up, he was still a trusted friend and colleague. We'd gone through the same hospitality program in college, and our career goals were the same: own an exclusive hotel. And, it didn't hurt that Joshua had the clean-cut look that I liked.
Joshua Barton was two years older than me at 24, and much taller at 6'4". His height made him appear thin, but he had the wiry strength of a marathon runner and the broad shoulders of an all-state swimmer. His blond hair was cut perfectly and the part in his hair as straight as a ruler. Light blue eyes expressed every thought.
Though not much emotion, I thought.
Joshua was perfect, polished, and completely without passion. Unless we were talking about hotels.
I turned in my chair as he approached and wondered if my ex-boyfriend was going to surprise me.
"There you are, Corsica. You can’t answer your phone? Didn't you see the email I forwarded you from our department head?"
"Really?" Ginny asked. "We just graduated and you couldn't let her have one night without bringing all of that up?"
Joshua ignored my friend with a polite frown. Then, he gripped my elbow and pulled me off my stool. "Sorry to interrupt, but this is actually important."
"Is he always like that?" Penn growled behind me.
"You mean bent on destroying any thoughts Corsica has of fun or freedom even for a moment?" Ginny asked. "Yeah. He's always like that."
"Who on earth is that?" Joshua asked me.
I glanced back at Penn and had no idea what to say. The differences between the two men were glaring, and I was shaken by how obvious my preference leaned towards Penn. "Never mind. I only came out to find you because it's that important," Joshua said.
I twisted my arm free of his grip. "Fine, just tell me. What's so important that you came out to a club to find me? Aren't you supposed to be having dinner with your parents?"
"Yes, but our department head let me know that there is a position available at the Ritz-Carlton in Half Moon Bay. I recommended you, Corsica. You're going to need to revamp your entire resume and make sure all your references are in order. This isn't something you can wait on. It's the chance of a lifetime!"
I stepped back and leaned against the bar. "The Ritz?"
"Exactly," Joshua said with a smug smile. "Now, come on, I have a car waiting."
I leaned away from his ushering hands. "Whoa, wait. It's important, it's amazing, but it can still wait until morning," I said.
Joshua stood up to his full height and gave me a disapproving frown. "You can't seriously be telling me that you'd rather stay here and listen to people butcher songs on a karaoke machine. We can stop and pick up dim sum. We'll make a night out of it, and you can send your resume first thing in the morning."
"Is that what you think when I sing?" I asked.
My ex froze and measured his next words. "What does your singing have to do with applying for a position at the Ritz-Carlton?"
"I love singing."
Joshua laughed. "And it's the perfect hobby for you, but it's not going to pay the bills or get you the career you've studied so hard for, now is it?"
I turned and looked at the stage. The vintage microphone glinted like a far off star, and I felt the old pain in my chest. It was the familiar pain of saying goodbye, of leaving something I loved for something better.
It was the same feeling that had followed me since I left South Dakota and never looked back.
Chapter Two
Penn
I should have kept walking. The thought occurred to me for the tenth time as I watched her toss her golden blonde hair. Corsica stood too close to her ex-boyfriend, her eyes bright with excitement over whatever news he was sharing. I rubbed my chest and cursed myself. When would I learn?
Women like Corsica, prim and perfect, were dangerous. Anyone who spent all their time polishing a perfect facade disgusted me.
Except disgust was the wrong word for my reaction to her. Attraction wasn't even a strong enough word. I could feel her pumping through my veins, and for the life of me, I couldn't look away.
There was some comfort in the way her sky-blue eyes kept coming back to me, even as her catalog-model boyfriend talked. I winked, and she frowned.
Corsica had already made it clear that I was not her type. I tugged at my beard. My careless clothes and my tattoos were not a disguise; they were me, but I had always been glad my look deterred women like her. One whiff of my bank accounts would turn her into a heartless, husband-hunting machine. Then, she would want to change me, outfit me like her perfect ex-boyfriend, and parade me around town.
I ground my teeth and turned back to the bar.
Corsica's friend, a tiny pixie of a woman, leaned next to me. "They aren't dating anymore, thank God," Ginny said.
"You really don't like him?" I was surprised.
"Oh, Joshua's fine, really. He means well. I just hate how he's got Corsica on this straight and narrow path."
I watched Corsica glance back at the stage. The microphone seemed to call to her. "And that path doesn't lead to singing?"
Ginny snorted. "Joshua has never encouraged Corsica to sing. Even though they met at open mic night at his parents' inn."
"His parents' inn?"
"Yeah. His parents own one of those fancy inns down in Santa Cruz. You know, the ones with the white linen tablecloths and seven-course dinners."
I chuckled. "What's wrong with that?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "It's just that he plans to turn Corsica into the perfect hostess. I don't want to see her stuck in a dress suit and pearls, kissing the ass of every rich couple that walks through the doors."
"And what does she want?" I asked, glancing at Corsica again.
Ginny gave a dark frown. "Doesn't matter. She'd never admit to it. Corsica's too determined to get ahead."
That was it. That was my cue to turn my back and forget about her. I should have kept walking the moment I met Corsica. With self-preservation in mind, I glanced at my phone for a distraction. Unfortunately, the only thing there was a text message from my father. I scowled, thinking how impressed my father would be with Corsica's ex-boyfriend. If anyone appreciated careful presentation and impeccable self-grooming, it was my father.
If there was one thing that Xavier Templeton loved, it was a polished image. My father looked down at the world from his towering command over Silicon Valley. He was every inch the legacy billionaire, from his custom, Italian shoes to his obscenely expensive haircuts. My father was just the man that people like Joshua and Corsica hoped to meet.
I, on the other hand, was pissed off at the idea of seeing him. I'd only come to town because my father's summons seemed so dire. We hadn't spoken in years, so plain curiosity was enough justification for me to come to San Francisco. It was becoming clearer and clearer that coming to the city was a mistake.
I read the text message again. My father was running late and wanted me to meet him at his house. As if that multi-level monstrosity of a mansion on Telegraph Hill could be called a house.
It was only minutes away, so I raised my hand to order another drink. Then, I saw Corsica gathering up her purse. She was going to leave with that blond, Polo-shirted asshole. My throat burned, and I decided to skip another drink. Besides, I could piss off my father by getting into his aged Scotch while I waited.
"You're leaving?" Ginny asked.
"Seems like the thing to do," I said. "Nice to meet you. And your friend."
I didn't like the way Ginny studied my face, or the way Corsica glanced over as soon as I stood up. What was I doing letting myself get tangled up? I'd spent my life untangling myself from other people's expectations and going my own way. Why did I care if she left the club with another man? It was stupid to stay another minute.
Still, I took my time making the rounds and saying goodbye to my friends who worked at the club. I was still chatting with the bouncer out front when Corsica appeared with her ex. Ginny trailed after them with a frustrated look.
"Why you giving him the evil eye?" the bouncer Allen asked me.
"Am I?" I shrugged. "There's just something about him I don't like."
"Or something about her that you do like?" Allen elbowed me in the ribs.
Corsica was hesitating, leaning towards going back inside with her friend. Joshua frowned and explained what she should be doing with an arrogant expression.
I felt the acid in my stomach sizzle. "I think he reminds me of my father," I spat.
Allen frowned and checked out Joshua again. "You think he's an alcoholic? Should I stop him from driving?"
I waved away the bad memories and called Allen off. I was overreacting, and it was totally out of character. If Corsica was so deter
mined to hitch her wagon to someone like Joshua, who was I to try to change her mind?
"Shame she's not going back in," Allen said. "I heard she has the voice of a sultry angel."
I couldn't answer. Joshua grabbed Corsica's elbow so tight I could see the pain on her face. He pulled her towards his car, and something in my brain snapped. I had seen my father grab my mother like that, the rest of the memories coated in helpless, black anguish.
The next thing I knew, Allen was pulling me back. He positioned his mountainous body between me and Joshua as the gasping crowd outside the club stepped back.
"What the hell, man? Penn, get a hold of yourself." Allen shoved me back another step.
I stopped pushing and held up my hands. "I'm fine. I got this."
"What you got is that crazy look in your eyes," he said. "You better think about what you're doing, man. Do you really want to butt in?"
"He grabbed her, Allen. I'm not going to just stand here and let him bully her. What's going to happen if she goes home with him?"
I knew my panic was unfounded. I knew nothing about Joshua or Corsica, but my muscles jumped with the desire to shield her. The thought of her getting hurt the way my mother once did was enough to have me stepping forward again.
Allen saw it. He knew. So, he stepped back.
Corsica had wrenched her elbow free and was fighting to keep Joshua from getting another hold. "Just give me a minute to think about it. I came out with Ginny, and we want to celebrate. My resume can wait until morning."
"I don't think you get it," Joshua said. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I'm not going to let you miss it."
He lunged forward to catch her upper arm but caught my hand instead. "I know you heard her," I growled.
Joshua took one step back and brushed his pristine Polo shirt as if I had soiled it. "This doesn't concern you. Don't you have tables to clear or trash to take out?"