by Tricia Lynne
“Another for me and a refill for him. And another beer for the bassist down there. Give it to him with my thanks.”
“Usual, Declan?” She looked over my head.
“Yeah.” His breath tickled my ear and I realized how close he was, tried to cover the shiver by shifting on the stool, but well-muscled and beautifully tattooed arms caged me in.
I looked down the bar to see the big guy tipping his fresh beer to me and I winked in return.
“A bit of gratitude. Couple guys were hassling us earlier.”
The bartender slid the glasses over. “Two Jamesons. One neat. One on the rocks.”
I looked at her wide-eyed and tried to pay, but she shook her head, looking past me. “Band’s on the house tonight,” she said with a sly smile before moving on. Declan scooped up his glass; his chest brushed my shoulder.
Jesus, there was that jolt again. Like the arc of static electricity followed by the brush of faux fur against sensitized skin.
I turned, watched as he put the glass to his mouth and sipped, sucked an ice cube between his lips, let it fall back into the glass as Joss Stone sang “I Put a Spell on You” through a nearby speaker. Damn, I bet that mouth was talented with more than a mic.
His sexy half grin returned. He knew it, too. “A woman who takes her whiskey neat…Damn, Avery. That’s not the polite woman I had dinner with.”
I lifted my own drink and sipped. “So, Jamie said you guys are the house band?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s the band’s name?”
“BlackSmith.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a band earlier?”
“I wasn’t thinking about the band then. I was preoccupied with the way you looked every time your little pink tongue slipped out to lick the corner of your mouth. Frankly, I wasn’t thinking of much other than your mouth.” Declan pushed stray hair behind my ear, waited for me to respond.
I felt the blush creep up my cheeks. “The band’s local, then?”
“Yeah. The drummer is from Louisiana and the bassist’s wife has roots here, but we play elsewhere now and then. This was a warm-up show for a gig we’ve got coming up. We’re heading over to Austin for South by Southwest next month.”
“Oh, I live in Dallas, but I’ve never gone down for that. It’s all people talk about when it’s happening.” I’d always wanted to get to Austin for one of the biggest music festivals in the country. Work, however, always got in the way.
“You should go down, Avery.” He met my eyes with a hint of amusement. “I’m sure you’d see why it’s such a big deal.” My blush intensified as I realized what I’d said, and Declan’s grin was a full-on wicked. Damn, if my undies had been soaked in gasoline, my ass would’ve been on fire.
He chuckled eyes crinkling at the corners. Then he let me off the hook. “We’ve played South by Southwest a couple of times. It’s a good time, but we’re getting older. Shaun has a kid.” He pointed at the bassist. “We’re not looking to be famous, but we still love to play.” He sipped his drink, sucked in an ice cube, let it fall back into the glass.
Fuck. I found it hard forming structured thoughts when he did that. My hand drifted of its own accord to the damp spot on his chest. “Still wet.” I bit the inside of my lip.
Declan exhaled in a small parting of lips, with the promise of unfulfilled fantasies swirling in his eyes. He glanced at my hand, then met my gaze. “Yeah,” he said, voice gone husky.
I was seriously itching to wrap my fingers around his nape. To feel his whiskey-laced breath against my lips, his guitar-calloused fingers scraping over my breasts, my ribs…much, much lower. And he held my eyes, read every wicked thought I had. His palm came to rest on my thigh as he leaned forward, pushing against my hand on his chest as he inched his way closer, eyes on my mouth.
Maybe I had put myself in the friend zone too fast, when Declan hadn’t had me there at all. Perhaps if I’d worried less about what he thought of me at dinner, and more about what I wanted, unfiltered Avery would have put in more of an appearance. Instead, the bitch had been relatively silent. Had he thought I was the one who wasn’t interested?
Someone shoved into my back and the spell was broken, but Declan’s arm folded around my waist to steady me. That was lovely.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Fucking Kat. Turning on the stool, I saw the mischief in her eyes. Declan turned with me, his hand against my lower back.
“Look who I found,” I said through clenched teeth.
She swallowed a sip of drink. “Mmhmm. Listen here. I’m thinking you know you’re hot with all your sexy singer mojo, but you dick with my girl and I’ma throw you a beatin’.” Jamie had a hand around Kat’s waist, strumming the bare skin peaking from below her shirt.
Declan raised a scarred eyebrow, chuckled while I shot daggers at Kat as my cheeks heated. Then his finger found bare skin at the small of my back and suddenly I couldn’t remember my own name. I couldn’t help it. I pushed against his hand, like a cat prolonging a pet.
“Kat said you guys are on vacation?” Jamie piped in.
“Yeah, we’re here till Sunday.”
“Declan told us at rehearsal about the hot chick in the Flogging Molly T-shirt who almost had his nuts for a set of earrings. I’m guessing that’s you.” Jamie smiled ear to ear. I sent him a wink of thanks as Declan spluttered behind me, spitting ice into his glass.
“Hey, Declan, I gotta take off. I got a game in the morning. Did you see—” I turned to look at the guy coming toward us, all loose swagger and easy confidence. Where Jamie had a fierce beauty and Declan had the dangerous good looks, BlackSmith’s drummer was all prep school charm.
He pulled up short, looking first at me, then Kat.
I recognized the hair from stage, but the rest was hidden by roving light rigs and his drum kit. Every bit as tall as Declan, he had a cap of wild, golden-brown curls that brushed his ears and stuck against his damp forehead. He closed his eyelids, held them shut with a curse under his breath. When he rolled his eyelids back open, a turquoise gaze met mine a second longer than necessary before shooting a look at Declan.
BlackSmith’s drummer had sinkhole-sized dimples that appeared as a slow smile crawled across his boyishly handsome face. The lights danced over sun-kissed skin, and a thick neck sat atop shoulders like a Mack truck attached to arms like tree trunks.
“Matt, this is Avery and Kat. Matthias is our drummer.”
Matthias reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips to brush a kiss in the hollow of my knuckles. His eyes never wavered from mine.
“Avery.” The drummer cocked his head slightly, then recognition flashed across his face. “You the girl who was wearing the Flogging Molly shirt we heard about earlier today?” I could hear just a hint of a Cajun accent. Matt’s eyes sought Declan’s and something unsaid passed between them, not all that friendly, but amusing nonetheless.
“This one’s the sleeper of the group.” Declan nodded at the drummer. “He looks all innocent and boy next door, then he turns on the charm. Once women hear that Cajun drawl, they beg him to take them to bed.”
“I’m not.” My quiet answer.
“Yet.” Matthias winked, turning to eye Kat at length. I saw the moment recognition dawned. “What the hell would a girl as good-looking as you be doing with this dickhead?” He tipped his chin to Jamie. “I believe I know who you are.”
“Do you now?”
“Does he know?”
“I don’t think so.” Kat grinned.
“Did I miss something?” Jamie interjected.
Kat eyed me suspiciously. This would have been a fine time to pay her back for any number of transgressions, but it was fun watching Jamie squirm. “Not gonna say a word.” Declan looked just as lost as Jamie.
“Me neither, cher.” Matthias smiled at me. “He’
ll figure it out eventually, he’s always been a little slow on the uptake.”
Kat and I laughed as Jamie flipped him off over Kat’s shoulder.
“Kat, lovely to meet you. Avery…” He looked to Declan and then back to me, his blue-green eyes lingering on my mouth. “True pleasure, darlin’.”
“Two pm rehearsal, Matt. Be on time,” Declan yelled after him, and I realized belatedly that Declan might have been talking to the drummer, but he was watching me as I eyed Matthias’ ass.
I smirked, shrugged at the amused look on Declan’s face.
“Avery, we should take off. I’m definitely winding down.” Kat’s voice cut through.
“Um, okay.” With a glance at Declan, I hopped off the stool. What was she up to?
“I’ll call you,” she told Jamie, as if he were the girl.
He tipped his chin.
Declan watched me intently, but I stayed quiet. If Kat had gotten Jamie’s number, she was going to see him again. Which meant I’d likely see Declan again.
“What the hell are you up to?” I whispered as we walked to the door.
“He left you in the lurch earlier, now you’re doing the same. He knows where you are. Swing your hips a bit. He’s looking at your ass right now.”
I started to look back and she stopped me. “Dammit, don’t turn around. Let him wonder if you’re thinking about him or the drummer.”
Genius, my best friend was pure genius.
Chapter 6
I lay in my down-covered bed, trying to sink the pillow-top mattress, but sleep wouldn’t come. So, I chose torture instead. By way of hot rock god.
Honestly, I’ve done some flirting; it’s a prerequisite for hanging with Kat, but generally a man’s interest in me is platonic or has an ulterior motive. I find flirting easier to do when I’m already resigned to the outcome. I don’t hold Kat responsible—she’s never suffered men who use me to get to her.
With Declan, though, everything felt different. I didn’t feel like he was just a good wingman, and the friend-zone notion was gone. Yet genuine interest from men, especially when Kat was around, wasn’t something I had much experience with. Still, I couldn’t stop replaying the time I’d spent with Declan tonight. Every touch, grin, and tingle of electricity between us. But would he still be interested without the whiskey and rock ’n’ roll?
At this rate, I’d never get to sleep.
I’d caught up on email and written out a last-minute job proposal. Then I’d tried paddling the pink canoe with my own gutter imagination, but no ‘O’ for me. I wanted reality, not fantasy. Frustrated and needy, yet not remotely satisfied, I had the female equivalent of blue balls. Throwing the comforter off in a huff, I kicked at the tangled sheets, pushed to my feet, and hunted the dark room for my flip-flops. I’d wander the hotel and occupy my brain with something other than Declan and sex. Shitty sports bra, black tank, and boxers, good enough for four in the morning. I palmed my room key and set out to explore.
The Crescent wasn’t big but had spots of interest everywhere. I stumbled upon the free-form pool surrounded by large wicker lounges with thick beige cushions and potted, artfully sculpted trees. The pool glowed with a violet hue cast by lavender underwater lights and a mosaic covered the floor under the glassy surface—a moon in its waxing crescent.
A fairy sat in the crescent’s lower half, one leg dangled over the edge, the other propped in the moon’s cradle, her wings stretched out behind. Stars winked around her in the form of contrasting tiles that trailed off to darker areas.
I slipped off a flip-flop and toed the cool surface, watched as the ripples brought the mosaic to life like magic. New Orleans held the same type of magic. Magic that, once touched, morphed with infinite possibility, each transformation at the discretion of the ripples. But this city’s magic wasn’t the Disney princess, puffy gown type. No, this was much darker. Haunting and raw, lacking all the glossy finish.
Mystery. Sensuality. Possibility. The city flowed with an undercurrent of the unseen and unexplainable. I shouldn’t try to analyze it. It was best to allow the magic to spread through you organically, awash with the mysteries of the current that carried it. There was something about this place….Like the city itself, I felt dark and lush. Desirable.
Slipping my shoe back on, I wandered into the courtyard opposite the pool. Gas streetlamps around the perimeter bathed the area in soft light and more potted trees sat at equal intervals between them. Large rectangles of thick green moss grew the length of the courtyard’s center. Against the brick walls, French doors led into guest rooms closed tight for the night. Wicker daybeds covered with masses of fluffy yellow pillows lined the walls between each room and wicker couches with cushions the color of ripe eggplant, arranged in conversation areas. The end farthest from the pool had a sunken area, boasting a conversation set and lush moss covering the ground that called to my soul.
I toed off my shoes and descended, breathed in the crisp night air and turned my face to the stars, taking pleasure in the stillness of predawn. I stood there for a long time, letting the world fall away. The tension eased from my mind into nothing more than a puddle at my feet, until faint voices carried through the night with an exchange of muffled phrases. One set of footsteps echoed in my direction.
I saw Declan before he saw me.
Under a gas lamp, one hand in his pocket, the chain on his belt swung with each step. He looked up and paused; his eyes widened before that sexy grin pulled up one corner of his mouth.
“Fate’s at work here. She keeps pushing us together.” His whiskey rough voice prickled the skin along my shoulders. Melted like warm caramel down my spine.
“So Fate is a woman. Do you really believe in Fate, Declan?”
His answering smile was enough to make sure that sleep would remain elusive tonight. “I believe in circumstances beyond my control. If you wanna call that Fate, then yeah, I guess so.”
I tried to stop the smile by biting my lip and he answered with his own, “What are you doing out here? I mean, far be it from me to question her.” He gazed up at the moon. “When Fate drops a hint in your lap, you should pick it up and run with it.”
“Can’t sleep. My brain won’t shut off.” I crossed my arms over my chest, realizing what I was wearing. Fate could be a bitch, too. “Thought some air might help.” I shrugged.
“Women are like that, aren’t they? Thinking too much? Worry really, and most of the time about shit they can’t control? Men find turning the brain off a lot easier.”
“What’s that saying? Men have two heads and enough blood to operate one at a time?”
Declan chuckled, walked down the steps. The space between us charged and my skin began to hum. “Yeah, that probably has a lot to do with it.” Declan’s eyes fixed on my mouth and he licked his bottom lip.
I wanted to pull him to me, brush that lush mouth with mine. Instead, I looked away.
“Why don’t you come sit down with me. I’m still all amped up from the show.”
“Oh, the life of a rock star. Party all night. Sleep all day.”
“Yeah, me and Paul Stanley.” He scooped up my flip-flops before palming my hand. Electricity danced under my skin, bouncing around like a pinball as he led me to a daybed next to a set of dark doors. The cheap sports bra wasn’t going to hide my nipples this time.
“You guys stay for a while after we left?” I asked as I crawled to the head of the daybed on my hands and knees.
Declan exhaled with a huff and I could have sworn I heard him whisper a curse. “Yeah. We hashed out some band stuff.”
I propped my back against the pillows, crossed my legs while he watched, feet rooted in place. He swiped his hand over his face.
“Are you standing, then? I thought you wanted me to sit with you.”
He blew out a long breath, then slid down next to me with his head pr
opped on a hand next to my legs. Looked up from under thick black lashes. “Tell me what’s keeping you up, sweetness?”
God, those eyes, so amazingly green and soulful, and his plump lips, just made for kissing. Sucking. Biting. Heat crept over my cheeks. “Work, mostly.”
“Work makes your skin flush that pretty pink? Phone sex or stripper?” he teased.
I crinkled my nose. “Do they even have phone sex lines anymore?” Dragging my nails down my neck, I did my best Marilyn Monroe voice. “Mmmm, Declan. Can you feel me stroking your enormous jungle snake? God, it’s soooo hhhaaarrrd.” His mouth fell open; I laughed deep and throaty, shook my head. “No, not phone sex.”
He snapped his mouth shut. “You’ve offended my delicate sensibilities, Ms. Barrows,” he said with mock offense. “You know that was hot, right? I wouldn’t have expected dirty talk from a good girl like you.”
I slanted a glance at him and a wry smile crossed his face. He hadn’t said anything dirty, yet his eyes burned with it, and the way he said my name…my nipples pearled to the point of pain. “Mmhmm, yet you suggest stripper. Yeah, very delicate sensibilities indeed, Mr. McGinn. Besides, I’m not all that good.”
He brushed a hand over his head and I wondered how sensitive that skin was. As sensitive as my Brazilian? And phone sex? Maybe. Stripper? “Yeah, definitely not built like a stripper.”
Declan sat up meeting my eyes. “Why would you say that?”
Shit, I’d said that out loud?
His eyes caught the light of the lamps as he searched my face. I didn’t answer, only shook my head. I wasn’t going there with this man. “Sometimes it would be nice to have a better filter on my mouth.”
“I like that about you. If you did, I sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten that show just now, but you didn’t answer the question.”
I blushed a new shade of crimson. He wasn’t going to let me off the hook this time. “I guess…I’m not…Kat, that’s all.” I stared at my legs and could feel his eyes on me.