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She was screwed.
Because she pretty much wanted to bolt into the studio, yank that guitar from his hands, and do him right there on the no-nonsense studio carpet.
She dug her fingers into the edges of her chair to stop herself doing exactly that and tried to remember how to breathe as he sang. It took a few moments after he finished the song before she realized he’d stopped singing.
And that he was staring at her through the glass.
Crap. Was her face as hot as it felt?
“So?” Zach asked.
Her brain still hadn’t kicked back into gear. Her fingers closed around her water bottle and she drank, trying to regroup. Music. Producing. All that stuff.
“Leah?” Zach said. “Something wrong?”
“Um. No.” She shook her head, hoping she sounded less scrambled than she felt. “All good. Sounded great.”
“Want me to run it again?”
Absolutely not. But there was no way she could say that. Listening to him play and sing to her was precisely the job she’d just signed up for. Okay. So she just needed a quick break so she could regain her grip on her stupid hormones and then get back to work.
So what if the guy sounded like the devil had sent him up specifically to entice her into a sexual frenzy? That was just her stupid nostalgia talking. She just needed to give herself a chance to get used to the sound of him again. Get over the shock of him being right there just a few feet away from her again. Then the impact would wear off. Disappear.
Immersion therapy. Or something. That was the thing where they made you confront the thing you were scared of to make you lose your fear of it, wasn’t it? She just had to spend enough time with him so she could re-accustom herself to Zach, then her hormones would calm down and reality would be restored.
But first, she needed a break. “Why don’t you grab a water or something? I just want to move some of the mics around. Maybe switch one or two out. That guitar has such a great sound, I want to make sure we’re getting all of it.”
Zach’s brows rose slightly. Understandable. It was early to be changing the set-up, but what the hell. It was the best excuse she could come up with right now.
“I promise I won’t take long,” she said.
To her relief, he put the guitar down and stood. She did too, heading for the booth door. Zach opened it as she reached it and she almost walked straight into him.
He caught her arm to steady her, and the shock of his hand against her bare skin was like fire. She stepped back in reflex and they did an awkward little dance around each other, while she tried not to breathe too deeply so that the smell of him couldn’t make things worse. Not easy when her heart was thumping so hard she felt like she’d been running a marathon. She made it into the studio, and then fussed with the microphones for about five minutes so Zach wouldn’t think she’d gone completely crazy.
He wandered back in from the kitchen just as she was finishing up.
“Hey, are you about ready to get going?” he said, passing her a fresh bottle of water.
“I just need another minute,” Leah said. She bent back down and fiddled with the microphone stand. She was definitely stalling now. So ridiculous. Why was she being such a dork around him? It was just Zach. Time to put on her big-girl panties and get this done.
She straightened. “There, that should be better.”
Zach was standing way too close, the smell of him surrounding her. Warm man. Fresh soap. The spicy scent that was all him. She’d never quite figured out if it was cologne or aftershave or deodorant. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was brain-meltingly delicious. It made her want to lean in, press her nose into the curve of his neck. Taste his skin. Gah. She straightened, picked up the water, and beat a hasty retreat back to the soundboard.
“Ready when you are,” she said, pasting on a fake-cheerful smile. She was going to get this done if it killed her. She held the smile, cheeks aching, while Zach settled back into his spot. All about the work. Right. She could do this.
A few hours later, she wasn’t sure either of them were going to survive the day. The music part was fine. But the part in between, when they had to talk to each other, well that was horrible. Long pauses. Stilted attempts at chat between takes. As long as she concentrated on the music, she could fake it for a while. But if the concentration lapsed, then she started noticing Zach. And her stupid traitorous body turned brain to mush. Stammering hot mess was not a look she was comfortable with.
And, as for Zach, well he wasn’t doing much better. He’d knocked over a microphone stand, almost blown up the microwave, and somehow managed to delete a song from his laptop. Luckily, he had an online backup. He’d seemed just as tongue-tied as she was.
For two people who’d had some smoking chemistry in the past, not to mention an easy friendship, they were both doing a good impression of really dorky teenagers trying to talk to someone they liked for the very first time.
When five o’clock rolled ’round, she suggested they call it a day. Zach looked at her like she was a little nuts—most musicians didn’t keep to a nine-to-five schedule—but the speed with which he packed up and headed for the door suggested she wasn’t the only one feeling the weird vibe.
After he left she did her usual end-of-day tasks—backing up files, taking notes for tomorrow, making sure all the equipment needing to be stowed was stowed. All the while wondering how the hell they were going to get past this. Surely there had to be a magic bullet? A way for them to become comfortable with each other again?
That couldn’t be so hard, could it? They’d been friends once and, heck, she’d managed to talk happily enough with Zach at various Harper events on his infrequent visits home. When she’d been safely married to Joey and any attraction she’d once felt for Zach had been buried deep in the recesses of her brain. Surely they could get back there again?
