She handed Fred his toy and straightened. “Great! I’ll see you then.” She headed for the door.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She turned, her heart pounding. Was he going to ask her out? She was torn between hormones and common sense and had no idea what answer would come out of her mouth.
“Sure!” she chirped. She tried to zip up her long parka and ended up fumbling it, zipping and unzipping over and over as the zipper caught on the fabric. She smiled tightly and dropped the zipper. She was overheated already. A cool, winter breeze would feel good about now.
“Why do you put your dog in a stroller?” he asked.
She stiffened. “He likes it.” Fred gazed out, a happy panting smile on his face.
“I can see that,” he replied. “But don’t dogs like to walk?”
“I can take him into stores and offices, like yours, in a stroller with no complaints. Can’t do that if he’s just walking on in.”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough.”
Her lips formed a pout. “You think I’m weird.”
“I think you’re very interesting,” he said with a hint of mischief in his eyes. Oh, he thought she was weird for sure, but then he gave her a warm smile, and she found she didn’t mind being weird so much.
His cell phone rang, and he glanced down toward his pocket, seeming surprised to hear it.
“I’ll let you get back to work,” she said. “Thanks again, Gabe.”
“My pleasure,” he returned, and the way he said “pleasure” had her halting in her tracks as heat rushed through her.
She met his eyes, took in his heated gaze, and knew he meant it exactly as she’d felt it. Fred barked to move things along, and she sailed out the door, wondering what the heck was Gabe’s story. And P.S. if she was throbbing from just one word, she was in trouble.
Chapter Two
Zoe had played all sorts of clubs in New York City with her jazz band, Sizzling Coda, but nothing compared to playing for the hometown crowd. She could feel the love in the room at the Clover Park Valentine’s Day dance as she sang “Soul Riff.” Jordan Banks on trumpet mouthed, “All you,” with a wink before backing her up on a fun improv part of the song where she liked to run up and down harmonic chords in her ba-daw-daw-baw riff. Wade Peterson on piano and Alex Higgins on drums kept up with her.
The improv section ended, and she segued back to the lyrics, moving forward to sing near the enthusiastic little girls right up front, Alice and May, the two-year-old twins of Liz and Ryan O’Hare. The girls were alternating bouncing and spinning each other in their pink party dresses while their parents and other couples danced nearby. The Valentine’s Day dance had become more popular with each passing year. This was her third time at the gig. Not only did it attract singles looking for a special someone on Valentine’s Day, but a lot of couples went to enjoy the live music, dancing, and catering by Shane O’Hare, master chef extraordinaire.
The song ended, and she took a quick swig from her water bottle while she scanned the room for Gabe. She found him helping Shane set up the hot food station in the back of the room. Shane’s wife, Rachel, stood nearby, pregnant and holding one little girl on her hip while her other daughter hung onto her leg. Gabe looked up suddenly, seeming to sense her stare, and she wiggled her fingers at him. He smiled, raised a hand, and went back to work. He’d been having trouble getting a hold of her landlord, John, no surprise there, but she hoped something would come through soon. She’d run into John this morning, and he’d snarled, “Get your lawyer off my ass.” Since he still wanted to evict her by the end of the month, she wasn’t being so helpful in that regard.
Her bandmate Jordan appeared in front of her, totally in her personal space. She was used to it. He always said it was the best way to get her attention when her mind tended to wander. “Let’s do some swing, Zoe-bean,” he said, giving her hair a playful tug. “I think this crowd can handle it.”
“Can you?” she shot back with a grin.
“Keep up, sassy girl,” Jordan said with that slow smile that brought women to him in droves. She’d been one of them once, many years ago, but they’d agreed they were better off as friends, which was fine, given that Jordan liked to spread the love to as many women as possible.
Jordan turned to the band, shouted the song, and counted off a silent one, two, three on his fingers for the start. The crowd went wild for Jordan’s bright and peppy trumpet sound. All of the older couples got on the dance floor to swing, even Maggie O’Hare, in her seventies and still going strong, got out there with her much younger husband, the owner of the place. She couldn’t help but smile while she sang. Some of their songs were covers of other more famous jazz bands, but this song, “Swing Me Up, Baby,” and a lot of others in their repertoire, she’d written herself.
After the first set, she chatted with the band in their usual postmortem about how it went and where they might improve. Jordan wanted a harder backbeat from Alex on one song, but otherwise things were rolling smoothly. They took a break and went their separate ways to mingle, eat, or in Alex’s case, head outside for a smoke.
She headed over to the hot-food station for a quick snack and a chance to talk to Gabe. He wore a red apron embroidered with white letters that read Something’s Brewing Cafe. Shane and Rachel stood nearby in identical aprons, serving up the food.
“Hi, guys!” Zoe said. “Where are the little ones?”
“Wearing themselves out on the dance floor,” Rachel said, pointing to where Hannah and Abby were running in gleeful circles around their Uncle Trav, who pretended to be looking for them just as they ran out of sight. “We’re hoping for an early bedtime.”
“Gabe’s got this, and the girls are occupied,” Shane said to Rachel. “Why don’t you get off your feet?”
“I’m fine,” Rachel said, scooping up the next helping of ziti.
Shane narrowed his eyes. “Have a seat, sweetheart, before I show you what’s what.”
Rachel’s head shot up. “How do you think I ended up like this?” She pointed to her baby bump. Gabe chuckled.
“That’s right,” Shane said all cocky-like before he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed his lips to the side of her neck.
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment. “Okay, fine.” She stepped away, and her apron was already loose and untied, probably Shane’s doing. “You’re sneaky,” she said, handing him the apron. “Call me if you need me.”
“I won’t,” Shane muttered as he set the apron on a nearby chair.
“I mean it,” Rachel called.
Gabe appeared at Zoe’s side. “Your landlord is avoiding my calls. I’ll stop by in person tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she said. “You work weekends too?”
He shrugged. “I just want to put your mind at ease.”
“Thank you,” she said, touched that he cared enough to keep pursuing her problem when she wasn’t even paying him.
She pointed to some chicken in lemon sauce and asked Shane for some. “John’s usually home Saturday mornings because he parties late Friday nights.”
“Perfect,” Gabe said.
“You want to join me?” Zoe asked, pointing to the chairs where she planned to eat.
“Can’t,” Gabe said. “I promised to help out here.”
She tried to hide her disappointment with a quick nod. What had she expected, really? They were both working tonight. And she was getting all hot and bothered over nothing. She was his client. Sort of. Whatever.
“All right,” she said breezily. “See you.” She turned and headed to the chairs.
“You sound great!” Gabe called. “I’m impressed.”
She turned with a smile. “Thank you!” She walked to the chairs with a little spring in her step and sat for a quick meal.
Zoe ate and watched some of her friends dance. Someone had put on a slow jazz playlist while the band took a break. She knew nearly everyone at the dance because she grew up in Clover
Park. A lot of people stayed in town or came back to raise their families. It was nice that way, and New York City was only a train ride away if you needed more excitement than Main Street with its cute shops had to offer. She did love this town, even as she longed to break away and make a name for herself in the music world.
She finished her chicken, tossed the paper plate, and was about to head over to talk to her friend Daisy O’Hare when Gabe appeared at her side. The apron was gone. He wore a maroon button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, giving her a glimpse of golden skin just like she’d imagined. Every cell in her body stood up and said, Yes, please.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
She smiled up at him, intending to say I’d love to, but what came out was, “I thought you had to work.”
“Shane gave me a fifteen-minute break. It’s in the labor regulations.” His lips twitched.
“Did you threaten a lawsuit to dance with me?”
“Would you say yes if I did?”
“No!”
He took her hand, his grip warm and secure. “I didn’t. Come on.”
She followed him onto the dance floor, her smaller hand tucked in his, as both excitement and something else, an odd feeling, ran through her. She stopped in front of him. He gazed down at her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and took the lead in a waltz. And, in that first step, she knew. Safe. She felt safe. A feeling she’d never felt with any man besides family. The rumors about him couldn’t possibly be true if she instinctively felt safe, right? Unless her instincts were dulled by overwhelming lust. It wouldn’t be the first time lust short-circuited her brain.
She met his dark blue eyes. He gazed back with a heated expression that made her throat go dry. She’d never felt so strange, sort of light-headed, giddy, and yet grounded. Like she was standing out in a lightning storm with a protective shield around her. She was getting squirrely. What was this, a sci-fi movie?
“You look beautiful in that dress,” he said. “I mean, you always look beautiful, but that dress is really nice.” It was one of her regular singing-gig outfits, a simple form-fitting A-line dress with a flirty, twirly skirt, red for Valentine’s day, with red pumps.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling herself come down from that strange electric place. Gabe was just saying all the regular lines that guys always said when they wanted to hook up. “You look nice too,” she added.
He smiled. “I’m glad we’ve established that we both look good. What are you doing after this?”
“Can I cut in?” Jordan asked. His eyes were on Zoe.
“No, you can’t,” Gabe said, maneuvering Zoe away from Jordan.
“Is he bothering you?” Jordan called.
Zoe’s cheeks heated. She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
Gabe spun her around and away, even further from Jordan, until they were dancing just the two of them in a quiet corner. “Ex-lover?” he asked.
She didn’t answer right away. Things with Jordan were complicated. They always had been.
~ ~ ~
“Zoe?” Gabe prompted. He wanted to know the answer, but he could barely focus on the words because now that she was in his arms, lust hit him like a blow to the head, dizzying in its intensity. His pulse thrummed through him, his pants were uncomfortably tight, and he could barely focus on conversation. He’d been in a deep freeze these last several years since his fiancée, Alyssa, died and he felt like he’d just dropped into the hot, carnal deep end.
“I grew up with Jordan,” she finally said. “He looks out for me.”
He noticed she deftly dodged the real question. Clearly Jordan had some unfinished business with Zoe, but Gabe was the one dancing with her, and he wasn’t going to waste his fifteen minutes worrying about an ex. He subtly pulled her closer, felt the heat of her through the dress, breathed in the scent of strawberry. A primal urge surged through him to take. He spread his fingers wide on her back to touch more of her.
“Gabe?” She was staring at him, brows raised, waiting for some response.
“What?” he asked, forcing himself to focus.
“I said you can really dance,” she said. “You waltz beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
“Did you take lessons?”
“Yup. Me and all my brothers.”
“You’re telling me a bunch of guys took ballroom dance lessons?”
He twirled her around and brought her back. Her smile was infectious, bright and beaming. “Yup,” he said with a grin.
“Tell me how that happened. You, Luke, and Jared just asked for ballroom dance lessons?”
“And my three stepbrothers.”
“Six boys taking ballroom dance!” she exclaimed.
“Yup. We were like The Brady Bunch hepped up on testosterone.”
Her brows shot up. “The who?”
“How old are you?”
“How old are you?” she returned with a grin.
Probably too old for her. She looked so young and fresh. “Older than you,” he said, feeling ancient. “You seriously don’t know The Brady Bunch? They’re on reruns all the time.”
“My parents didn’t let us watch much TV. So tell me about six boys dancing.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “My mom insisted my stepfather, Vinny, take lessons before their wedding. Then she sent all of us boys too, so we’d bond.”
Zoe laughed. “That’s how she wanted you to bond? I can just imagine it. Especially Jared.”
He chuckled. Jared had run around the room more than he’d danced. “It was bad. But Vinny was so in love with her, he went along with it. Of course, I didn’t understand that at the time. I just thought he was whipped.”
“How old were you?”
“Fourteen.” He was damn grateful for the six weeks of forced lessons now because women loved a man who wasn’t afraid to get out on the dance floor.
He spun her again and pulled her closer when she returned to his arms. She didn’t pull back. Her soft curves pressing against him felt incredible. And she smelled good enough to eat. Or lick.
She looked up at him with wide eyes. “Fourteen and you didn’t give them any attitude about ballroom dance lessons?”
He forced his mind back to the conversation. “Well, I’m the oldest, and Vinny offered to pay me ten bucks a lesson to set an example for my brothers.”
“Ten bucks is pretty good.”
“I negotiated to twenty.” He grinned. “I cleaned up good.”
“You sure did.”
“I like dancing with you.” His gaze caught on her cherry red lips, full and sweet. He desperately wanted to kiss her just then, screw the dancing.
“Me—ah!” She bumped into his chest as a little girl wrapped herself around her leg.
“Zoe! Zoe! Save me from the monster!”
Zoe pulled away with a laugh. Gabe glanced down, and his throat got tight. It was one of Ry’s twins. Gabe had once been a twin, though he tried not to think about it. Ry approached and neatly scooped up the little girl, tucking her under his arm like a football, and left without a word.
Gabe pulled Zoe back into his arms, only this time he didn’t bother with the waltz position and merely wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “This way you won’t fall over from another twin attack,” he said by way of explanation.
Zoe laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think we’re safe. And P.S. I’m the big three-oh.”
He smiled. “I’m the bigger three-five. You look much younger, by the way.”
“Awww, thank you. I bet you say that to all the girls. You lawyer types are so smooth.”
He shook his head with a smile. And then the words were out before he had time to second-guess himself. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He trailed off as Zoe turned away to talk to the guy who’d just tapped her shoulder.
“We’re up,” the guy said. He thought it was the drummer.
“Be right there,” Zoe said. She turned back and ga
ve Gabe an apologetic smile. “I gotta go. Sorry. What were you going to ask me?”
“Zoe!” Jordan hollered.
“It can wait,” Gabe said.
“Sure?” She turned and raised a finger to her bandmates, and then turned back to him. “Okay, thanks for the dance.”
He let her go. “My pleasure.”
She studied him for a moment, her expression at once curious and, yes, definitely interested.
“What?” he asked in a show of innocence.
She blushed. “Nothing.”
He knew what. He wanted to do dirty, dirty things to her, and he was testing the waters, throwing pleasure into the conversation.
“You owe me a dance,” he said, “since we were interrupted. Come find me after your gig.”
“But there’s no music after,” she said as she backed away.
“I don’t need music.”
She cocked her head to the side, opened her mouth and shut it again. “I gotta go.”
“I’ll wait,” he said.
She nodded once and headed back to the other end of the room where the band was set up. He watched as Jordan scowled at her. Zoe smiled in return, her hand on his arm, and said something that pulled a reluctant smile from him. What was their deal?
Gabe returned to helping Shane while still keeping an eye on Zoe and Jordan. The man frequently ogled her ass when Zoe moved forward, center stage, and joked with her between songs. In fact, his eyes rarely left her at all. Still, Zoe had seemed interested, or at least curious about Gabe while they danced. Fuck it. He was going to ask her out as soon as they were done playing, death curse or no. He wouldn’t get too close to her. He just wanted to spend a little time with her. Naked.
He listened and watched Zoe for the next hour. There was something about her when she was singing that was different, almost divine, though that sounded so sappy. Sometimes when her voice rose in a building chorus, he actually got chills. It was electrifying, that voice. Her talent was wasted here in small-town USA. She belonged in the spotlight on the world stage, or at least with her own album. Why didn’t she have a recording contract? He’d never heard of her singing career until he moved back to town four years ago. He hadn’t seen much of her, as she flitted in and out of town for various jobs, but this past month she’d been putting in a lot of hours waitressing at Garner’s, and he’d finally gotten the chance to talk to her when she brought his lunch.
Restless Harmony Page 2