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Charcoal tailored suit molded to broad shoulders, crisp white shirt against tanned skin, the subtle, expensive scent of cologne.
Warmth and whiskey pooled in my stomach. My body tightened with annoying appreciation as I leaned over, holding my breath so I didn’t inhale more of that delicious scent than necessary. I was convinced he’d laced his cologne with drugs.
“How many more songs are left?” I whispered. I would die if there were more than two.
“Five.” Kai didn’t take his eyes off the stage.
Five?Cold dismay doused the warmth.
I shouldn’t even be here. Tessa had agreed to cover my shift tonight, but I hated asking people for last-minute favors. Plus, voluntarily agreeing to a night out with Kai Young? Sheer insanity, especially after our almost-kiss and his abrupt departure.
I hadn’t seen him for three weeks after, and I was sure he’d been avoiding me. That hadn’t stopped my heart from fluttering when I saw him downtown the other day or prevented a whisper of satisfaction from snaking through me at his obvious dislike of Leo.
Perhaps I’d imagined it, but I could’ve sworn he’d been jealous.
The thought evoked a strange thrill beneath my skin.
“Are you enjoying the performances? Besides Hina’s,” I amended. “Be honest.”
Kai finally glanced in my direction. The full width of the table separated us, but the impact of his attention still sank into my body, filling every inch with uncomfortable warmth.
I crossed and uncrossed my legs, oddly breathless. I was dying for a shot of tequila, but all thoughts of alcohol fled when his eyes dipped to my bared thigh. The slit of my dress had fallen open, and my skin burned under his dark, inscrutable scrutiny.
The noise from the rest of the bar faded like someone had turned the volume down on the radio. It took an ungodly amount of willpower not to shift my leg so even more thigh was exposed to his heat…or to cover myself up so I wasn’t tempted to do anything stupid.
Like agree to a piano bar date when you’d vowed to stay away from him?the irritating voice in my head taunted.
Shut. Up.
I had a bad habit of reneging on my promises to myself. It wasn’t a great attribute, but I owned it, though I didn’t particularly like being called out on it.
The current sonata ended, followed by a wave of polite applause.
Kai dragged his gaze up to meet mine again. The slow-spreading burn followed, gliding over my hips, my waist, my breasts, and my neck before settling on my cheeks. I wore one of the slinkiest dresses in my collection—a little burgundy velvet number that I’d thrifted at the Looking Glass boutique—but I might as well be trekking across the Sahara in a full-length parka.
Sweat beaded on my chest and forehead. Good thing I hadn’t ordered that tequila shot, or I might burst into flames right here in the middle of Tchaikovsky’s “Piano Concerto No. 1.”
Something passed through Kai’s eyes. “The performances are fine,” he said in response to my long-forgotten question. His neutral tone gave nothing away, but when he faced forward again, I caught the quick flick of his eyes to his watch.
The tiny movement shocked me out of my stupor.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, all ill-advised lust forgotten. “You’re bored.”
Normally, I’d be offended because hello, I was excellent company, but we’d barely talked all evening. His boredom had nothing to do with me (I hoped) and everything to do with two hours of mind-numbing classical music.
Kai’s mouth pressed into a straight line. “I am not. This is delightful.”
“You’re such a liar.” Laughter bubbled from my throat, drawing glares of condemnation from the table next to us. I ignored them. “You just checked the time.”
“Checking the time isn’t a direct correlation to boredom.”
“Yes, it is.” I’d checked the time no less than a dozen times since Hina’s performance ended. Who could blame me? No dancing, no talking, no song requests. I might as well be in church, for Christ’s sake. “Admit it. You’re not enjoying yourself.”
“I will do no such thing.” Kai paused, then added, “Besides, the performances are almost over. We can go elsewhere after if you’d like.”
It was as much of an admission as I would get out of him.Men and their pride.They would rather die than admit they were wrong. Meanwhile,Iwould die if I had to spend another minute listening to a mournful song without lyrics.
“Why don’t we go elsewhere now?” I suggested. “The night is young, and you’ve shown me your New York. Let me show you mine.”
