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Gayle grinned. She loved a man who was so willing to cook for her. “It sounds heavenly. But I’m afraid I can’t wait. I’ve got to get home, or I’ll be late for work.”
“No jogging this morning?”
“I got enough exercise last night.”
He grinned, the shaving foam puffing up on his cheeks. A slight dimple was visible in the thin strip of shaved skin, where it would be covered by his Master’s mask. She hadn’t noticed the dimple when they met for coffee, and thought it was a sign that he was more relaxed around her now. His eyelids were much more even when he smiled now, too, the faint offset no more than most people’s side-to-side discrepancies.
He dropped his razor onto the counter and turned to face her, leaning back against the edge of the counter and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajamas.
“If you want to bring some clothes over next time, go ahead. Then you won’t have to run away in the morning.” He tossed out the suggestion with a studiously neutral tone that implied he didn’t care if she did or not. Recalling his reactions the first time they’d made love, she suspected he cared, and cared deeply, about her answer.
“I’d like that. A lot.” She shook her head. “But I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“Friday?”
“Works for me. And then I can spend Saturday with you, too.”
He stiffened, his eyes widening, the right opening wider than the left. “I won’t be available during the day. I have a previous obligation. But I can see you Saturday night.”
“Oh.” He didn’t have to look so panicked at the thought of spending the day with her. “Are you busy Sunday, too?”
“Afraid so.”
Gayle pursed her lips, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. “What are you doing?”
“I have to meet with someone about a song. It’s a four-hour drive.”
Her eyes widened. “And you’re driving there and back in the same day?”
“I’ve done it before. It’s no big deal.”
“Well, would you like company for the drive?”
He shook his head, bits of foam flying off to spatter on the thick blue carpet. “No. I won’t be good company. I will, in fact, be the stereotypical neurotic artist, obsessed with what they think of the song.”
He hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to hear it?”
“I’d love to.” She was going to be late for work. Maybe she could skip the shower, and just do a quick rinse-and-go. She knew an olive branch when she saw one, and she wasn’t about to refuse.
“Come on. It’s already cued up in the deck.”
He bounded out the door, making her run to catch up with him. He crossed directly to his studio, bypassing the guest room and bath, and fired up the banks of electronic equipment. After a few minor adjustments to various switches and dials whose purpose escaped her, he punched a button and the opening power chords of a pop ballad thundered through th
e room.
It started like so many other songs, extolling the virtues of the bad boy who stole the singer’s heart. Hearing Rikard’s voice singing lyrics obviously meant for a woman was a little strange, but his knife-like delivery didn’t give her room to think about it, cutting straight to her heart with his pain and anger.
“I thought it was forever. You thought it was one night. Now I’m hotter than hot, and you’re sniffing at my heels like you never went away. Gonna buy me a lover, make him big and strong and dumb. Gonna buy me a lover, one who’s never gonna run. Gonna buy me a lover, and we’ll have all kinds of fun. Gonna buy me a lover, and he’ll love me until the money’s all gone.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as verse after verse hammered her with Rikard’s pain and desperation. Despite the upbeat, perky music that practically begged her feet to dance, the lyrics spoke of a bleak, meaningless future. She’d known he had issues. Carrie had warned her that he couldn’t commit to a real relationship. Had losing his girlfriend in the accident really crushed him that badly, that he couldn’t risk loving again?
Oh, God. He wanted to buy a lover because it put him in the position of control, and that way he wouldn’t be hurt again. Was that why he was so adamant about staying in his Master persona?
Gradually, she became aware that the room was silent, and Rikard was watching her intently.
“You’re crying. Why are you crying?”
“It’s just so sad.”
