TORCH: Underground Encounters 9

by Carlisle, Lisa

  “I don’t really. Our arrangement had never been traditional. They needed a hand, so they reached out. Since I don’t have plans tonight, I figured why not.”

  You could have plans with me. “It’s good to stay busy.”

  “Are you free tomorrow?”

  Her pulse quickened. Keep it casual. Keep it fun. “Sure. Do you have anything in mind?”

  “Do you like live music?”

  “Yes.”

  “Any kind in particular?”

  “I’ll go to a concert if an artist I like is in town. I try to visit the Boston Symphony Orchestra at least once a year. But, for a casual night out, I’d say a piano bar.”

  He laughed. “Is that what it sounds like?”

  “If you mean someone playing a piano at a bar, then yes. You’ve never heard of one?”

  “I’ve heard of them. Never been to one, though.”

  “Are you game?”

  After a couple of seconds, he said, “I’m game to try anything with you, Rachel.”

  The low rumbling in his tone sent hot shivers all the way to her toes. Her heart thrummed with a louder beat.

  Casual. Fun. Casual. Fun. “There are some wild variations with these,” she said. “Some are quite outlandish with dueling pianos. Others bring in a whole rock component. I’m happy just to listen to someone playing piano while I relax with a glass of red wine.” Jeez, she was babbling now.

  “I’d like to experience that with you.”

  She pictured where they’d met. “It might be low key compared to what you’re used to.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Vamps is intense. And the people there can be—outlandish. Definitely a different scene from a piano bar.”

  “I’m sure I’d enjoy it. I love music. It doesn’t have to be loud and fast. I relish the quieter aspects of life. Spending time in nature. Listening to the quiet when I’m out alone in the woods.”

  Picturing him in a serene outdoor setting didn’t match that of the hot stranger wearing all black she’d met in an underground club. “I didn’t know any of that about you. What else don’t I know?”

  When he didn’t reply for long enough for her to question if she’d treaded onto a personal land mine, she swallowed.

  “We’ve only just started to get to know each other,” he said. “I’m sure neither of us will reveal all our secrets at once.”

  Why did she get the sense he was talking just as much about her as himself?

  Chapter 12

  Mattias listened to the sounds of the piano surrounding him. Rachel was right. The ambiance of the piano bar struck a more relaxing vibe than the intensity at Vamps. No flashing lights, throbbing bass, sweaty bodies. Instead, the crowd of mostly couples sat at small tables with false candlelight in the center. Many fixed their gazes ahead on the woman in a sparkly gold cocktail dress playing an impressive, shiny black piano. Some of the songs he’d recognized, such as the Beatles or the Rolling Stones.

  After the pianist finished “Wild Horses,” Rachel leaned closer to him and said, “Are you enjoying this?”

  Her perfume affected him like a gentle caress. “Yes.”

  She smiled. “You appeared entranced.”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by music. Entranced might be the right word.”

  He remained in that state as they listened to the piano. He held Rachel’s hand over her thigh and drank whiskey while she sipped at white wine. He watched the pianist’s fingers as they danced across the keys. She made it look so effortless.

  When the show ended and they walked outside into the summer night, he said, “Great show.”

  “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we can try something else another night.”

  “Sure.”

  She tilted her head. “How about dessert again at my place?”

  The suggestive glint in her eyes indicated her true meaning.

  He raised his brows. “I’m hungry for something sweet.”

  They returned to her place without stopping to pick up anything.

  After they entered her house, she kicked off the heels, losing a few inches.

  “I have a bottle of Chardonnay chilled. Would you like a glass?”

  “Sure.”

  When she entered the kitchen, he walked around her living room. The photos of her family were now familiar. One was with her parents and sister when they were younger, another was during Rachel’s graduation. Throughout most rooms, spider plants and ivy hung from ceiling hooks or draped over end tables.

  Strolling into the room with the piano, he perused it. The sleek body. The black and white keys.

  Mattias sat on the bench. He ran his fingers over the keys. When he brought them back across, he pressed each key. The sound of each rang in his ear with its unique sound.

  He strove to detect a difference in each one. Something about the piano fascinated him. Many had performed on them over the centuries, generating magic from their fingertips.

  He admired the dedication and passion they had. That was what he lacked—a passion. Like what drove an artist to create.

  He played a few notes. It was far from a song, but it was a pleasant sound, nonetheless.

  When he glanced at the sheet music, he squinted at the squiggles. A sudden frustration funneled within, culminating with him clenching his fists. If he hadn’t spent all that time locked in stone, he could’ve had other opportunities. He might have learned something of value, something like this. His breath quickened as the sense of injustice rose. He curled his hands into fists at his sides.

  How did his brothers manage to get past the anger? Lucan had been consumed with vengeance. When he’d had the chance of destroying the witch who’d cursed him, he’d managed to find restraint.

  Love.

  That’s how Lucan had explained it. His love for Elise and Marguerite was stronger than his hate.

  Mattias took slow breaths and swallowed the rage. That kind of love was as foreign to him as the first day he’d immigrated to the States, exploring a different culture from the French cities and countryside he’d called home.

  He struck another key on the low end of the scale. When he ventured west, perhaps he’d find his destiny.

  So, why was he delaying his departure?

  Rachel returned carrying two glasses of wine. “What are you playing?”

  “Nothing.” He rose from the bench. “Just tinkering.”

  She tilted her head. “Do you know any songs?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to learn?”

  He shrugged, an attempt at casual indifference to offset the rage he’d experienced moments ago.

  She sat down on the bench and patted the seat beside her. “Come on. I’ll teach you a few basic things.”

  “No, that’s quite all right. I was just sitting there.”

  She played something beautiful and familiar.

  He stepped behind her, listening to the music. He closed his eyes. That was the best way to experience music. Let it flow through him without his other senses interfering.

  After a minute or two, he sat beside her. Her scent wrapped around him, invigorating him with that intoxicating effect.

  “It’s Debussy - Arabesque No. 1. One of my favorites.” She smiled at him. “I’m happy to teach you.”

  That sounded like a commitment. One didn’t just learn piano in one day. He’d already delayed his journey long enough.

  “When did you learn?” he asked.

  “Years of lessons for as long as I remember as a kid. I hated them. Now I’m grateful I had the forced opportunity. I’ve been playing since I was five.”

  Having the opportunity to learn something new wasn’t an option while he’d been in stone. And that was something he didn’t want to explain to her right now.

  Or ever.

  She positioned her hands over the keys and glanced at him. “Follow my lead. Place your hands like this.”

  He attempted to follow the graceful motions of her small hands
with his large ones, which appeared like oversized paws next to her dainty fingers.

  “This one is Moonlight Sonata. It’s a beautiful piece, and good for beginners.”

  She played a short segment and then he followed. They continued that way for several minutes with her interspersing the pieces with bits about the music and keys. Her nearness was a distraction, and he yearned to lean closer still. Yet, while they played together, a sense of accomplishment filled him.

  She placed her hand on his thigh. “You feel the music. It flows through you. That’s something a lot of people don’t have and they just follow the mechanics.”

  His cheeks warmed. What an oaf he was, beaming under her praise. “Thanks,” he muttered.

  His gaze fell to her hand. The heat of it on his leg stirred him. He’d already been fighting the distraction while they played.

  He placed his hand on hers and stroked it. Energized pulses traveled through him. Their palms turned in to face each other and their fingers entwined. He glanced at her face. With her lips parted and hooded lids, her expression appeared caught between a state of dreaminess and desire, the one he loved to see. A dream. That’s what she was like—his dream.

  When he awoke, that meant she’d disappear.

  Still, they had now. With his free hand, he reached up and stroked her face. She leaned into his touch, kissing his palm. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, as soft as satin petals. He leaned closer and kissed her.

  His gentle caresses turned into frantic claims. She grasped at him in kind, running her hands over his upper body. He leaned her back on the piano bench and she held on to him. Her hair fell down the sides, reaching for the floor. He kissed her lips, her face, her neck, bumping into the piano as he sought to reach every inch of her. His erection strained against his pants. He ached to rip them off and bury himself inside her.

  They fell to the rug, rolling over each other as they kissed and touched. When she ended up straddling him, her royal blue dress rumpled up to her thighs. With rapture in her expression and a wildness to her touch. How lucky he was to have this captivating woman. The professor and the siren.

  He took her face in both hands. “I’m so lucky.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re proper and professional to the outside world, but a sensual goddess for me.”

  She nodded. “Only you.”

  He pulled her down to him and kissed her. “Let me show you my appreciation.”

  * * *

  Rachel had to be careful. She was falling in deep. Each night she spent with Mattias, she tumbled a little bit more. Once she’d discovered his fascination of music, she loved introducing him to more venues. It meant moving their arrangement beyond a physical level, but as long as she could manage to keep her feelings in check, this might work.

  It was strange that he’d lived a somewhat sheltered life. Sheltered might not be the right word. After all, plenty of her students had upbringings different from her own, so she shouldn’t compare. Her parents were both educators and insisted that she and her sister were exposed to the arts as well as sciences. They’d spent many weekends at museums or concerts. It was a shame that Mattias hadn’t learned more about music. But he might not have appreciated it the way he did as an adult. She certainly didn’t when she was younger.

  During an otherwise bland Tuesday, they ventured to a bluesy-rock show. Halfway through the set, it turned surprisingly erotic. They sat at a table hidden in shadows at the back of the club. Mattias reached under the table, caressing her thighs with languid circles. As his fingers rose beneath her skirt, she sucked in a breath. He wouldn’t here in public, would he? As much as she considered it wrong, she couldn’t help but lean forward, encouraging him to continue.

  He kept his gaze on the band, appearing to listen as intently as everyone else, while he continued with his private performance. Her body heated and turned liquid. She didn’t dare squirm or utter a sound as he brought her up higher.

  Right there in a club, he brought her to a fiery climax.

  He leaned in close and whispered, “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She sighed, coming back to her body. “Fantastic indeed.”

  A couple of nights later, they drove south into Boston to visit an acclaimed jazz club. Although the club was as dimly lit as the last one, it was also more crowded with people at tables close to his. Mattias behaved, keeping his hands to himself, but he flashed her a knowing smile as if remembering their last engagement.

  As the musicians played, Mattias appeared captivated. He tapped his fingers on the table, keeping his gaze fixed on the performance. How different from last time. And yet, she enjoyed it just as much—although in quite a different way.

  In between songs, he leaned over to her and said, “It’s cool to see how the musicians get into it. They all seem to feed off each other’s energy.”

  “Right,” she agreed. “Sometimes it seems they don’t even have a plan and they’re creating the music as they go, inspired by each other.”

  After the show, she drove them back north.

  “Mind if I spend the night?” he said.

  Of course not. Did he have to even ask? The best part of the night was when they returned to her bedroom. This would be the third night in a row. It bordered on dangerous territory with them growing so close, but in truth, it wasn’t just the best part of her night, but her year. It had been a disastrous one for sure, but since Mattias had entered her life, it had swung in a more positive direction.

  His touch was addictive. Almost everything about him was, which made it difficult to stick to her resolve at keeping things casual between them.

  Yet, one thing stuck out as odd—they’d never gone to his place.

  “How about your place for something different?”

  He stared straight ahead at the highway. “It’s small and cramped. We’d definitely be more comfortable at your house.”

  It could be the truth, but she had to wonder if he was hiding something. It wasn’t the first time she’d suspected it. Wasn’t that a flag of someone who was cheating?

  Neither spoke for a few seconds. The speakers played “Deeper and Deeper,” a song she liked by Dave Gahan, yet now it repeated like a warning?

  She vocalized the question that scratched at her. “You’re not married, are you?”

  He snapped his head in her direction. “What? No, of course not. Where did that come from?” The tone of his voice rose higher in apparent surprise.

  She shrugged, forcing herself not to sound overly suspicious. “I can’t help but wonder why we never go to your place. Do you have a family or a girlfriend? Are you keeping something a secret?”

  Although she’d kept her tone neutral, he bristled. The accusation in her questions bit.

  “Rachel.” Running his hand over his forehead and through his hair, he said, “I’m not involved with anyone else. The reason why I haven’t brought you over is that it’s just temporary space for me. Lucan and his family live in the building. I rented a furnished studio by the month for a short term while I figured out my next move. I have no connection to it and hardly spend any time there. You’re welcome to come by whenever you’d like. I warn you, it’s nothing impressive.” He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed.

  “Oh.” Her cheeks warmed. Was she being suspicious of him keeping secrets because she was guilty of it herself?

  He caressed her leg. “You’re the only woman in my life.”

  His touch distracted her as much as his words. She sucked in a breath. She yearned to tell him the same, that he was the only man in her life—the only one who meant anything to her. But that would undermine her resolve, and it wouldn’t be fair to say things like that to him. It would be leading him on, wouldn’t it?

  She rehearsed her response in her head before she said it. “You’re the only man I want in my bed. Let’s go back to my place.”

  Ugh, that sounded much worse when she said it out loud. Detached. She
meant to express it was a warm welcome back after those questions about his home and relationships. Yet, it sounded like she only wanted him for sex.

  Did she?

  Shit. This was getting confusing. What she wanted and what she could have were two different threads that had somehow tangled.

  She fixed her eyes on the car ahead on the highway and felt his eyes on her profile, scrutinizing her.

  He pulled his hand from her thigh. “As you wish.”

  The detachment in his voice rang clear as his expression turned grim. It stung like a chemical burn. Her muscles stiffened.

  Damn. She’d deserved it, just as sure as if she’d removed protective gloves and poured an acid directly onto her skin.

  Was this a warning? She was clearly playing with a dangerous combustible with this fling. How long before the flames lashed out, consuming them both?

  * * *

  Married?

  How could Rachel think that about him?

  Maybe he’d given her reason to suspect him—after all, he was hiding something.

  Two days later, he stood in her living room watching as she watered her plants. He wrestled with whether it was right to keep his identity a secret. He couldn’t keep it from her forever.

  But, if this relationship wasn’t going anywhere, why would he confide something that was sure to drive her to end it sooner?

  She began to hum. It was a tune he’d heard from her at other times as well, at moments like this when she appeared to be carefree.

  “What’s that song?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” She peered over her shoulder. “Just humming along.”

  “I like it. You sound happy.” A lightness filled his chest. Did he play any small part in her joy?

  After they ate dinner in the back yard and were washing the dishes in her kitchen, she resumed the same tune. Familiar with the pattern, he joined in.

  She cast him a self-conscious smile. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

  “Doing what?” he replied with a nonchalant tone as if he didn’t hear a thing. He took the last plate from her hands and dried it with a dish towel.