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He raised a brow. Not likely. After all, he needed to save his voice for tomorrow. If anything, he should back out of dinner and go home. Rest. “We’ll see about that.”
Gary had told him to go out and have fun … and he was nothing if not cooperative.
Chapter Two
Lexi stole a peek at Justin, hoping she hadn’t just agreed to go out with a crazy, ax-wielding madman. She didn’t pick up random men off of the street and go out with them. She was sensible. Smart. Organized.
Not impulsive and daring.
But then again … he was right. She really needed a distraction. And people went on blind dates all the time. She at least knew what Justin looked like, if nothing else. Should she snap a picture of him and text it to her sister in case he was a murderer? Pulling her Blackberry out, she switched it onto silent and snapped a picture as best as she could while walking down a crowded NYC street and trying not to be so obvious about it.
She got his shoulder.
Oh well. She’d just be murdered and he would escape without being caught. No biggie. She stole another glance at him and he smiled. Looking away quickly, she ducked her head to hide the blush of her cheeks. He didn’t look like a murderer. If he was, at least he was a hot one.
While they hadn’t exactly met under the best of circumstances, he’d made her laugh a few times despite it. Already, he’d proved to be a diversion. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her laugh. Made her want to flirt and have fun and be free. This was a hard time of year for her and she’d chosen to spend it alone, mourning with a bottle of wine, sometimes two.
Alone. Missing her fiancé. Her dead fiancé. It still hurt to think about him. To miss him. And tonight? She’d been missing him a lot. Right up until she fell in that puddle. After that, she’d been too distracted by Justin to feel sorry for herself. For the first time in the past year, she felt like doing something other than missing him. She felt like being with someone other than herself.
She was freaking sick of herself.
A taxi zoomed by and the driver shouted at someone to “move out of the fucking road,” and she snapped out of her thoughts. “So, why are you here in America? Why come all the way out h
ere to work on the stage if you can do it back home?”
“Are you mad?” He looked at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “It’s bloody Broadway. Every actor—,” he broke off and looked over his shoulder at the theater, “—and c-crewman would kill for the opportunity to work here. To soak in the lights and the applause. To be in this city. The better question is, ‘why wouldn’t I choose New York?’ Everything about this city screams culture and the arts.”
When he spoke, his voice carried a lilting quality usually reserved for singers. As if he were singing. Perfect breath spans and pauses. And his accent? She could listen to him drone on about the freaking weather and be perfectly content just sitting there for hours. Perhaps he was an aspiring actor, or a singer. Besides, isn’t every waitress here an aspiring actress? It was the city of dreams, after all.
Or so they said.
He pulled her against his side, moving her out of the way of a woman barreling toward them with a double stroller. The contact sent a jolt of desire pinging through her, and she pulled away stiffly. She shouldn’t be feeling that for another man … should she?
Flushing, she hurried for something to say. What had they been talking about again? The weather? His hot accent? Her inappropriate reaction to his touch? “Uh … I see your point. I guess I just didn’t realize the same held true for the crew members. But then again, you’re not just a crewman, are you?”
His eyes widened and he stopped walking. “I beg your pardon?”
Someone crashed into him, making Justin stumble forward. She grabbed his arm to help him right himself, but ended up being dragged with him. He managed to catch both himself and her without either of them hitting the ground, but she ended up in his arms. Again.
“Move the hell out of the sidewalk, dumbass,” the man snarled, shoving past them. The rest of the crowd surrounding them followed his path. New Yorkers were good at avoiding obstruction, but they were also excellent at running over obstructions—so they better move.
Justin swung her out of the way of a homeless guy pushing his cart. He held her close to his chest, his arms holding her close. She clung to him, unable to believe how vicious people were being tonight. “We better move before the Americans take down yet another Brit on the fourth.”
Justin set her down on her feet, his hands on her hips. Hers rested on his shoulders. His hard, muscular shoulders. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring you down with me.”
“First the puddle. Now this.” She let go of his shoulders and grabbed his hand. “I better keep you close to me before you kill us both. Come on.”
“Lead the way.” He grinned and tightened his fingers on hers. “But back on topic … how did you know I’m a singer?”
“I have a bit of experience with musicians.” Lexi grabbed his arm and made him walk before they got trampled to death. “You hope to be on stage one day, don’t you?”
“Experience, eh?” He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he eyed her and moved her out of the way of a huge guy barreling toward them. “It’s a guy, isn’t it? Tell me about him.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” She avoided his eyes. “I dated a guy in a band once. He was a jerk to the nth degree, and I never want to see him again … but he talked like you. Perfect breath spans. Perfect rhythm.”
She stopped at the intersection to wait for their turn. A man came up in front of them and yelled something about designer purses for ten bucks, and she shook her head at him.
“You’re very observant.”
