Harry pulled one of the karaoke menus across the table. “Looks like they’re getting ready to sing. Take a look at the songs they have.”
Bianca leaned close and Harry felt the heady rush of her scent and her closeness. Clean, soft. She smells like fresh air and…peaches? She tipped her head to see better and her hair brushed his cheek. Soft as a kitten. Harry sniffed lightly and didn’t care if she caught him at it.
She seemed not to notice as her finger traced lines of print. She hummed a line or two and nodded. “Some of these are really old songs.”
Akemi released Julia’s hand and tapped at the menu. “I told Julia how good we are with old Motown, and she says she and Bianca have a lock on the Supremes. What do you think?” he asked Harry.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“Well, my sister and I think you know what you can do with your challenge.” Julia’s sneer was dainty, but definite. “If you really want to prove how good you really are, why don’t you try singing with one of us, instead of with each other? Try a little Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell, or some Peaches and Herb?”
Kemi sat back and folded his arms. “My brother and I can knock them out of the park. Suggest a title.”
“How about Take Your Time?”
“Al Green and Corinne Bailey Rae? Too new. How about something older? Something like The Closer I Get To You?”
“Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway?” Kemi shook his head. “Too old-school, besides, nobody can touch the original. Nobody.”
“Not even you and your brother? Bianca can work that like a day job.”
I can what? Why is Julia throwing me under the bus like this?
“We’ll choose our own song.” Harry stood and offered Bianca his hand. Drawing her to her feet, he led her to the table where the karaoke mistress stood waiting.
“Score!” Kemi slapped a high five against Julia’s raised palm.
“Are you sure?”
“You wouldn’t have to ask if you knew my brother,” Kemi snickered.
“Can’t wait till I can say that about my sister. She still thinks we’re on a date—and if we’re lucky, she’ll continue to have no idea that you and I are not an item.”
Tilting his bottle in Bianca and Harry’s direction, Kemi’s satisfaction was evident. “They look good together, don’t they?”
“Like they were meant to be together,” Julia agreed. “I don’t think we should ever tell them that this get-together was for them, do you?”
“Agreed.”
Across the room, their bodies framed by shadow and stage light, Harry still held Bianca’s hand and her body touched his at shoulder, and hip. Harry felt the shift when Bianca lifted her chin to glance up at him, and the corners of her lips curled. There was question and maybe a bit of an answer in the glance, but he needed more than just a clue.
“Something?” She looked away, but when her eyes came back to him, Harry felt the connection. “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”
“Joke,” she repeated, taking her hand from his and passing it beneath his arm, she leaned close. “This is no joke. This was good old-fashioned matchmaking.”
Harry looked back at their table.
She slapped at his arm. “No, don’t look! They’ll know we know,” she whispered.
Her arm tightened on his and he enjoyed a schoolboy’s thrill when the soft warm curve of her breast pressed against him as they walked up to the karaoke table. “Is that a bad thing?”
Her fingers played along the muscles of his arm, suggesting seduction, but her eyes flashed a different message. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m glad my brother has good taste.”
“You just keep thinking those happy thoughts, all right?” She turned her attention to the song lists spread on the table in front of them. “How about this one?” Bianca pointed to “You’re All I Need To Get By”, an oldie, but a goodie.
“Marvin and Tammi. I once heard they were in love when they recorded it.”
“Maybe not that one.” Bianca’s fingers skimmed the listed titles. “Baby, Come to Me” caught her eye. “Patti Austin and James Ingram. Think we can make it sound as good as they did?”
“Not a doubt in my mind.” Harry brought his lips close to her ear. “But we had a bet.”
“I never bet anybody anything.”
“Your sister…”
“My sister has a big mouth. Harry, you do know this is not a real date, don’t you? You don’t know me from a can of paint, and no matter what my sister wants for me, her hanging on to my boss for a night and dragging you into it is not going to make a bit of difference to anything.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Bianca’s hazel eyes snapped away. “Don’t you know when you’ve been played?”
“I know enough to watch out for the players, even when I’m not sure what the game is.”
“Played like a radio.” Harry smiled and Bianca noticed the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. Nice. Determined to hold the line, she kept her face still and her body stiff.
His smile deepened. “So we’ve decided? Baby, Come to Me?”
Bianca’s eyes searched his face and found nothing to complain about. “You don’t know me and you could leave right now, if you wanted to. Why are you letting this go on?”
Harry’s shrug was irritatingly simple. “For the same reason you are. It got me out of the house.”
“You don’t know anything about me, and I don’t know anything about you. You might be an axe murderer, for all I know.”
Taking Bianca’s arm, Harry stepped to the side to let another couple register. “I’m not an axe murderer.”
“I might be,” Bianca frowned. “You never know.”
Harry frowned back. “I’m pretty sure you’re not. My brother does background checks.”
“Jokes,” Bianca huffed and her fingers toyed with the watch she’d borrowed from Julia. She looked at him hard. “Give me the ten-second bio.”
“Ten seconds?” Harry frowned. “What can you learn about anybody in ten seconds?”
“More than I know right now. Talk fast.”
“Are you always this difficult?”
“Ten seconds,” she repeated, looking pointedly at the watch. “Starting now.”
Hands on his hips, Harry saw she was dead serious. “Atlanta, born and raised. Oldest of two. Mother, Japanese. Father, African-American. Morehouse, Wharton Business. Mostly Baptist. Oh, and I’m always kind to old people, children, and small animals.” He opened his hands to Bianca. “Okay?”
“You did it with three seconds to spare.”
“Good. Now it’s your turn.”
What can I tell him? And in ten seconds? Forget it! There were simply no words to adequately explain who she was and how she’d come to be here. And then there was KPayne. What could she say about him and how that brought her to where she was today? Bet that didn’t come up in Akemi’s background search.
“It’s complicated. I’m complicated…” she finally said. At a loss, she raised her hand, fingers spread helplessly, and he laced his fingers through hers.
“How about you share something uncomplicated? How long have you been in Atlanta—you don’t sound like a native. What part of town do you stay in?”
“A while now, and I live downtown. Museum Tower, over near…”
“Centennial Olympic Park,” he finished. “I know where it is. I live there, too.”
Bianca’s mouth dropped and she blinked. “You do?” Oh, now it all makes sense. Julia knew he lived there. She knew it before she set us up. “I’m going to kill Julia.”
“Don’t do it,” Harry advised her. “You won’t do well in prison; you’re not the type. How about we just play nice—since we’re here and we know we’re neighbors? We said we would sing; I think we should sing. What harm could come from that?”
Bianca’s lips pushed into a pretty pout. “You’re too nice, you know that?”
Harry brought th
eir meshed fingers to his chest. Bianca’s breath caught in her throat when she felt his heart beat beneath their joined hands.
“He’s my brother. I can’t kill him.”
The sober look on his handsome face made her giggle, but she didn’t try to move her hand. “Didn’t stop Cain.”
“And look at how that turned out.”
Bianca looked back at their table. Across the room, Kemi and Julia sat with their heads together, stealing peeks at her with Harry. They’re watching us, waiting for one of us to do something that either brings us together or pushes us apart.
“All right, Harry. I’ll sing with you, but I need to do something first.”
Looping her fingers into the collar of Harry’s shirt, Bianca tugged slightly. Off guard and off balance, Harry’s arms closed around her. His breath was warm and sudden against her skin; utterly disturbing, but she held him, anyway. Pulling him closer, she brought her lips to his. Taking his mouth, determined but not rushed, his lips were warm and soft, they felt right and good against hers.
Fingers locked in his collar, committed, her tongue swept his and she knew she wanted more, even as her teeth closed on his lower lip. Enough, sanity suggested. More, the crazy woman in her soul urged when her little sigh slid into him. It’s just a kiss between…strangers? Deeper, more familiar than either of them had any right to expect, the kiss sweetened.
Shared breath and the magic of the moment bound them until the karaoke mistress cleared her throat. Bianca’s fingers relaxed on Harry’s shirt and she felt the heat of him against her. His arms still held her even as her tongue traced his lips a final time.
“I’m not complaining, but what was that for?” His lips hovered, a whisper away.
Releasing him felt like mortal sacrifice, but she managed, not sure she could get the words out—they were too bold. But he deserved an answer. “I thought we should get it out of the way. It’s a love song. I shouldn’t have to sing a love song with a man I’ve never kissed.”
Harry nodded. “Good idea, but maybe we should make it a real kiss.”
Her pulse stumbled when his fingers touched her cheek before finding a delicious spot beneath her ear and vivid awareness of him nearly crossed her eyes. His lips cruised hers and she felt need link them.
Her hands lifted to his face, framed him there, and Bianca Coltrane gave herself up for lost. I could sing love songs with this man forever. Hell, I could write love songs with this man for an eternity. His mouth covered hers and his tongue probed, making her dizzy, and she surrendered, then grew sad as he pulled away.
Judging from his kiss, Harry Jordan was a man to be reckoned with. She looked up at him, her eyes lingering on his lips, and her knees wanted to buckle. She had to take another breath before she reached his eyes and when she did, she saw him waiting for her to take the next step.
The karaoke mistress cleared her throat again, and pointed to the stage.
Singing seemed like the only thing left for them to do on a hot late spring night, in a bar and grill in Atlanta.
The words to the song were simple, but Bianca barely recognized them. She thanked God they were written down and that they flowed across the plasma screen at the foot of the small stage. When Harry put his arms around her, and swayed to the music of their voices, the song she’d heard hundreds of times suddenly made sense.
This is what I want. He smiled and her knees went as soft as her voice. Oh, God…What if he felt that? His thumb stroked a line along her cheek and she was glad her next line was a deep sigh, because it was coming anyway. Harry swayed again and her voice lifted. Don’t ever let me go, Harry. Please don’t…
As the music wound down, Bianca indulged in Harry’s embrace. The applause from the crowd interrupted what the song had begun, and Bianca wished someone would ask for an encore. Nobody did, though several men moved to shake Harry’s hand as they left the stage and the eyes of women, envious and admiring, followed them back to their table.
“You two made that look easy.” Akemi looked satisfied, but Julia glowed.
“Your turn now.” Harry barely glanced at his brother as he moved Bianca’s chair. Julia became immediately entranced by a chicken wing and pretended not to notice Bianca’s glare.
“We decided not to sing.” A half grin lurked on Kemi’s lips.
Lifting the water glass to her lips, Bianca’s eyes were on her sister. “Told you.”
“We saw the kiss,” Julia gloated, giving up on the chicken wing. She nudged Kemi and leaned back in her chair, the picture of contentment. “I’d say our work here is done. We don’t have to sing. Not unless you just want to…”
Kemi tipped his chair back. “I’m good.”
“Told you,” Bianca said again, setting her empty glass on the table. “Well, now that you’ve accomplished what you set out to do, I’m going to call it a night.” She tucked her purse under her arm and aimed a dangerous glare at her sister. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Harry had to move fast to catch her before she reached the door.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
“I don’t need you…”
“Yes, you do.” He pushed the door open and got a pleasant reminder. She really did smell like fresh peaches.
On the sidewalk, beneath a city sky filled with stars and streetlights, she wondered: How can a man like him still be single? He’s almost too good to be true. Just look at him. Walking beside him, she did just that—and ah, but the man was marvelous-looking. Japanese-American, he’d said. Maybe that accounted for the sumptuously caramelized skin, and the sheer blackness of his hair and defining brows.
This man was tall, tall enough for a tall woman to feel petite in his presence and delicate in his arms. Her eyes traced his shoulders, arms, and chest as he moved across the parking lot with her. He’s built like a wall, like a man who knows what to do with his body.
A vivid memory of his kiss invaded her thoughts. What’s wrong with him? She looked at him again. What’s wrong with me? Any other woman would be out here flirting her ass off, trying to get closer to a man who looks like Harry Jordan. A man who kisses like Harry Jordan…
They reached her car at the same time her thoughts were inching toward other things Harry Jordan might do well. She looked at him, saw that his lips were moving.
“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping he hadn’t guessed her thoughts. “I didn’t hear you.”
“More like you were lost in thought.”
He opened her car door and closed it for her. He watched her pull the seatbelt across body. Seeming to reach a decision, he tapped the door as she turned the key in the ignition. She turned and he leaned close enough to be heard over the Jaguar’s hum.
“I believe you,” he said softly. “I believe you are complicated and enigmatic, and I’d like to see you again.”
“Uh…” Her foot tapped the gas and the Jag rumbled.
“I’m not asking for a life commitment, Bianca. Just lunch. You and me, good food, some time to talk. That’s all.”
With a man like you, that could be enough. “Lunch. When?”
“Sunday.”
Simple enough. Nodding, she pulled a card from her purse. Her hand shook lightly as she wrote her cell number on the back of the Kin Kura card and passed it to Harry. Lunch is a good thing. She murmured a farewell when he stepped back. Pulling from the lot, Bianca made her turn onto Ponce de Leone, and heard herself humming. “Baby Come to Me” played through her head all the way home.
* * *
Harry watched the Jag’s taillights move out of the lot and into traffic. Complicated. That was the word she’d used. Who knows? Maybe she really is. He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed back to Dugan’s.
He pulled open the door and stepped into the noisy bar and grill. A chunky male trio stood center stage belting out their version of hope in the promise of a kiss. Harry returned to the table and dropped into his chair, ignoring Kemi and Julia. He had other things on his mind.
What
did she mean when she kissed me…other than not wanting to sing a love song with a man she had never kissed? And why is she available? He looked at his brother and her sister. Why does a woman like that need help meeting men?
Harry slumped low in his chair. He never noticed Betty refreshing drinks. A woman as beautiful and complicated as Bianca is bound to have a past.
Harry lifted the cold long-necked bottle Betty had left on the table for him. Drawing a long and satisfying swallow, he knew lunch was a date he would keep.
CHAPTER 10
Kelvin Michael Payne was a long way from appreciating the sultry beauty of the Atlanta afternoon when he stepped away from the Studio door. The Studio, as the small house was known, had been in his family for the better part of a hundred years, and while it had history and air conditioning, it wasn’t where he wanted to be today.
Today, he wanted to hang with his crew, be out and about, free to do the things they liked to do. But he couldn’t. He had an appointment with Aldrich Christian, and he could think of fifty other places he would rather be on a Sunday. “Dude is going to have me sitting there in his office for as long as he can, trying to make it look like he’s earning that fat retainer I pay him.”
“Retainer?” The single word came from Caressa, Alin’s newest playmate. Little more than a kid, she was dressed in Baby Phat and Apple Bottoms.
Alin’s taste was simple. Cute and sweet was nice, but hot and sexy in any combination always got his attention. Caressa came under the hot and sexy category. Barely five feet tall, she was marginally pretty, just missing cute. But she had a body like Barbie, and if they ever made a doll in her image, it would be called Baby Bend and Flex, ’cause she had it just like that.
But she’s dumb like they were giving it away and she went back for seconds, KPayne thought, watching Alin loop an arm around Caressa’s tiny waist. She purred like a kitten when he explained the word to her.
A matched set, Payne thought dismally, walking down the three steps leading from the wraparound porch to the stones paving the walkway and heading for his truck. It took less than a minute for him to hear the sound of Alin’s Nikes following.
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