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“It works.” Emmy agreed.
“No more pearl snaps.” Krystal tapped the pearl in the middle of his chest, her hand remaining. “All black.”
He nodded, resisting the urge to take her hand. He was vaguely aware of Emmy, practically sprinting to his dressing room with a “I’ll go tell Calvin” called back over her shoulder.
His dressing room door slammed shut and they were alone.
Her hand fell from his chest.
“You’ve been hiding from me.” It wasn’t a question. Or an accusation. Just a fact.
She swallowed but didn’t say a word.
“Why?” He pushed, needing to know.
She stared at the top pearl snap on his shirt. “I never pegged you as someone with such a high opinion of himself, Mr. Black. Why on earth would I be hiding from you?” But her bite was halfhearted and she couldn’t meet his gaze.
He tipped her chin back, waiting for her to look at him. “That’s what I’m asking.”
But staring into her green eyes made things go hazy around the edges. She did that to him, put the rest of the world on mute so she was all that registered. The heat in her gaze was countered with something wary—something fragile. Unless she talked to him, he’d never know what she was struggling with.
“It doesn’t matter, Jace.” She cleared her throat. “Don’t let the song we’re singing confuse you. This is business. Work. I’m the first duet you’ve had. I have no doubt, no doubt, there will be plenty of others.”
He knew good and well they weren’t talking about their song. Did she really have such a low opinion of him?
“It’s music. When it’s good, it should stir things up inside.” Her voice faded to a whisper.
“You’re telling me what I’m feeling isn’t real?” He knew better than that.
She blinked, her mouth opening. “Feeling?”
He nodded once, his heart damn near beating out of his chest. Yes, dammit, feeling.
“No.” She shook her head, stepping away from him.
She was scared. Of this? Of him? Of the feelings she was hell-bent on denying?
She tried again, her voice thick. “It’s not.” She kept shaking her head, determined to shut him down. “It’s a good song.”
The panic on her face was unexpected.
“I need to go. I was looking for my father.” She tore her gaze from his and made a show of staring down the hall in both directions.
“I thought it was Travis?”
She glared back up at him. “Travis, too. They’re together.” Her gaze fell from his.
She was a terrible liar. “I’ll tell them if I see them.” He ran his hands over his shirt front. “No pearls snaps? They’re growing on me.”
A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “If it makes you feel better, you can pull it off.”
“As long as the ink shows?” he clarified.
She stared long and hard at the black that covered most of the inside of his forearms. The cross covered up the skin graft he’d had from a pipe explosion on a rig. He’d been lucky. Two others had ended up with permanent disabilities and another dead. His other arm was covered with the day his son was born and the day he died, in roman numerals. A reminder, always, of how precious time was and to make the most of every second. Like now. This moment.
“Yup. Play up your strengths. You are hot.” She shrugged, that hard coldness seeping in, stiffening her posture and turning her voice brittle. “Follow my brother’s lead and you’ll learn how to make the most of it. Like he said, you’ll never have to sleep alone.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “Don’t get me wrong, I like your brother but that’s not who I am, Krystal. If you’d stand still long enough to listen to me, to give me a chance, you’d know that.”
