Wolfe’s somber expression now would fit in at a funeral. Lev has that effect on people. He radiates an intensity that’s difficult to relax around. Impossible to ignore.
“Vodka,” Lev clips. “Neat.”
“Of course, sir.”
I take another tiny sip of Manhattan, mindful of my low alcohol tolerance. I hardly ever drink hard liquor, only the occasional glass of wine with dinner.
Tonight isn’t typical. My heels are higher. My dress is shorter. My underwear is scraps of lace rather than full-coverage cotton.
When I glance at Lev, he’s already studying me. Not my legs, but my face.
I flush again, like a lovesick teenager. Rub the damp glass with my thumb—again—struggling to keep my composure from slipping away as I listen to the low hum.
“How is work?” he asks.
“Notexpanding,” I state dryly. “More budget cuts.”
The arts are always the first to lose funding in a recession.
Lev’s attention has shifted to the opposite end of the bar. Unenthralled by the symphony’s financial woes, but at least heasked. More than many bother to do. Most guys’ eyes glaze over as soon as I mention my job. Musician can sound sexy. Violinist doesn’t have the same sultry effect.
“They were supposed to bring in a conductor from Austria for a spring residency,” I continue. “The board emailed this morning, letting everyone know it’d been canceled. We’re repeating the same program from last year, which won’t help with attendance.”
I don’t add that I’ve spent weeks practicing the prospective pieces, hoping I’d be elevated to first chair during the next audition. I’d be disappointed about the change of plans even if I hadn’t started preparing for a performance that would never take place.
“Your drink, sir.” Wolfe sets a glass down, then hurries away without any attempts at small talk.
Lev glances at the vodka I know he won’t drink.
I look where Lev’s attention was focused before. Jason—the man who approached me shortly after I sat down and took the stool beside me without asking if it was available—has returned from the restroom. I was planning to explain I was meeting someone when he came back. Too late now, and he’s not brave enough to approach with Lev beside me.
I aim an apologetic smile Jason’s way, then take a hasty sip to wipe away any misplaced guilt. Ice clinks against glass, the cherry nestled in the center of the cubes.
“He’s too old for you.”
My eyes dart to Lev’s. I’m not surprised he noticed Jason; I am taken aback that he’s commenting.
“He’s thirty-eight,” I reply, tone a tad defensive.
Information Jason offered up while Wolfe mixed my drink, along with his reason for being in Chicago—a college friend’s bachelor party. It’s his buddy’s second wedding. The first bachelor party was in Vegas, which Jason said he’d preferred asa location, up until he spotted me. That line wouldn’t have led to anything, even if I hadn’t been here to meet Lev. But a ten-year age gap isn’t unheard of. My father was fifteen years older than my mother. Not that their relationship was an example I want to emulate.
Lev pulls a crisp hundred out of his pocket and tosses the bill on the counter. “Was nice talking to you.”
I nod. “Wish I could say the same.”
He leans closer, until our faces are only a few inches apart. So near that I can map the constellations of amber flecks in his whiskey-colored irises. I forget to breathe following the first inhale of his scent—wool and smoke and soap.
“I prefer you not talking.”
“Same.” The solitary word comes out as more of a breathy exhale than an insult, that threat of combustion appearing again.
It’s unfortunate yet thrilling that no amount of exposure has dimmed his effect on me.
Another rare grin appears before Lev brushes by, striding away from the bar.
I know he won’t look back, so I do, biting my bottom lip as I track his rapid progress toward the elevators. I’m not the only one watching. Every person Lev passes pauses to stare, no one immune to his intrigue. It makes me feel better—and worse, knowing my fascination isn’t unique. His hair is a little longer than it was when we met in mid-December, dark brown strands barely brushing the collar of his coat.
I face the bar again before my interest becomes too obvious.
