“Non-fat white mocha?”
His lips curve, something akin to approval in his eyes I don’t understand until he refocuses on Jenny and says, “My normal times two today.”
His normal. He drinks white mochas?
“You run Jerry off today?” he asks Jenny.
“Oh that man,” Jenny grumbles. “He pulled his back taking out the trash. I think he’s faking. He wanted a day off.”
“Us men have bad backs,” Kace argues. “Be easy on him, Jenny.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She grimaces, but somehow even that is delicate, like a flower nudged by the wind. “I’ll think about it. Order coming right up, Kace.” She waves at me and winks.
My cheeks heat all over and Kace gives a low chuckle. “Come on.” He’s still holding my hand when he starts walking, pulling me along with him—no, more like guiding me—through the seating area, and around the counter, to the same exact table I’d shared with Alexander. The table is against the wall, and Kace grabs my bag from me and sets it on the chair that ensures I sit right next to him, not across from him, as I had Alexander. He pulls out that chair and invites me to sit.
For just a moment, I’m frozen there, staring at him, trying to understand what’s happening. What am I doing with this man, and why, despite all my mother’s warnings and my good sense, do I want to keep doing it?
His lips hint at a smile, his eyes with mischief. “Should I tell you what I’m reading into that look you’re giving me right now?”
“No, actually,” I say quickly, pretty sure my look was far more telling than intended. “Don’t.” I sit.
He laughs that low and sultry laugh of his and helps me scoot up to the table. Once I’m settled, he claims the seat next to me. “You want to tell me yourself, then?” he asks.
“No. I don’t believe I will.”
He considers me a moment, those blue eyes seeing a bit too much for my comfort before he lets me off the hook. He shrugs out of his jacket and settles it on the back of his chair. “How upset was your client?”
“Pretty upset, but not at me,” I say. “I called him right before the bidding and confirmed his top price. He did pressure me this morning to right his wrong, but clearly, I never had a chance with Alexander.”
“No. You didn’t. What he says and does is always about positioning and an agenda. Alexander is all about power.” He angles in my direction, all of his attention on me. “Every move he makes is about control and power.”
“But your moves aren’t?”
“I’m many things, but I don’t resemble Alexander in any way.” It’s not exactly a direct answer, I realize, but before I can push him, he adds, “If you haven’t figured that out yet, you will.”
The comment takes me off guard. It suggests that he’s offering me the opportunity to find out, to know him, and my head swims with the right and wrong of what’s happening between me and this man, and something is happening. And so, at least for now, I dare to accept. “It seems you’re a regular here.”
“I’ve been coming in here since I was a kid with my parents. Jenny and Jerry were good friends with my parents. They’re like second parents to me. They used to reward me with cookies and cupcakes for long hours of practice.”
I give a tiny smile. “No wonder you were able to skip the line.”
“A little perk, yes.”
Jenny appears beside our table and sets our coffees and cookies down. She’s in a long pink dress and I hadn’t realized how petite she is, maybe a whole five feet at the most and a hundred pounds soaking wet. “Have you tasted our cookies before, dear?”
“I have not had the pleasure,” I say. “But I’m looking forward to it.”
“This is Aria, Jenny,” Kace introduces me. “She runs a rare collectibles business.”
Interest, genuine interest, lights her features. “Oh really. What kind of collectibles?”
“Pretty much anything you might want,” I say. “Wine. Books. Ancient objects.”
“You must see a lot of interesting pieces of history,” she comments. “I love history.”
“As do I,” I say, “which was a big part of what drew me to this business.”
“I’d love to chat about some of the things you’ve seen. You get Kace to bring you to the house one evening.”
Someone calls out, “Jenny! Jerry’s on the phone!”
She groans. “Can you find me a new husband? One with a better back?”
I laugh. “I think you should just give him some Advil and keep him.”
She scowls. “You are no help. Eat the cookies and take care of this one here.” She squeezes Kace’s shoulder. “He’s my boy.”
Warmth washes over Kace’s expression. He loves this woman and this tiny look into his life is unexpected in all kinds of ways. He’s a genius, a prodigal violinist, and yet he’s so down to earth, so human. So complicated. I sense that, too. There are many layers to this man, and I’m not sure he really invited me to see them at all. I just don’t know what this is between us. I’m not sure what I want to be happening between us.
Jenny hurries away and Kace opens the box of cookies. “Okay. Life is too short for you to never have had these cookies.” He displays the goodies. “How does the icing stack up?”
I grin. “Considering they are overflowing with icing, I approve.”
“Dig in, then,” he encourages.
I smile and find myself remarkably comfortable reaching for a big fat cookie, which is surprising considering I’m about to stuff my face in front of perhaps the most interesting man I’ve ever met. “I can’t wait.” I take a bite, and the soft, sweet, yummiest cookie I’ve ever had is an instant delight, while icing smears all over me. I laugh and he hands me a napkin, our fingers brushing with sizzling results, his expression warm now for me, too.
“Well?” he prods.
“Wonderful. Too wonderful. Thank God I don’t live over here. I’d be in trouble.”
His expression is still warm. I’ve pleased him. He likes that I like the cookies, and this pleases me. He snags one for himself and takes a big bite, icing smudging his face now. It’s my turn to hand him a napkin. “Thank you,” he says.
“Ah. You have manners, too.”
“Hmm. I guess I do.” He winks.
My stomach flutters and I’m afraid I’m too transparent in my reactions to this man. I test my coffee and it’s perfect. “Even the white mocha is wonderful.”
“Everything here is.” He finishes off a cookie. “I gather from our first encounter that you’re new to Riptide. Is your business new to the city?”
“We’ve been around for five years,” I say, offering an answer as truthful as possible, “but auction houses take a commission I prefer to avoid. I’m coming around, though. I’m starting to feel like I can make this work.” I use this door he’s opened to slide right into the topic I’d missed talking about with him last night. “Do you happen to know a Sofia, Kace?”
His brow furrows. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
“My brother and I work together and she’s the one who tipped him off about the auction at Riptide, but he’s traveling and not communicating well. I was hoping to pick her brain about the instrument.”
“She doesn’t sound familiar, and as for the instrument, Mark won’t even let me look at the damn thing. Not even after I agreed to do a show with Chris Merit at the VIP event itself. Bastard.”
I laugh. “He does seem like a hard-ass but aside from that obvious statement, I heard about your performance from Crystal today. I’m excited to be there.”
He arches a brow. “So you won over the hard-ass, did you?”
“More like I won over Crystal. Maybe. I’m not sure. I might have won over Mark before Crystal. Either way, I like Crystal quite a lot. Thank you for the tip.”
He inclines his chin ever so slightly, studying me intensely again and I can’t read his thoughts. I want to read his thoughts. “Should I guess
what you’re thinking now?” It’s out before I can stop it. Oh God, what was I thinking?
He leans closer. “Are you ready for that?”
Heat rushes up my neck. “I’d better leave it to my imagination.”
“Not mine?”
“No,” I say quickly. “Not yours.”
“All right then,” he agrees, sitting back, his mood turning from sultry to conversational. “You only have one sibling?”
“Yes. One. You?”
“It’s just me.”
Just him.
I cut my gaze, with the bite of fear I cannot escape. It cannot be just me now. It can’t be. Gio has to come home.
“Hey,” he says, softly compelling my attention.
My lashes lift and I look at him, swimming in the deep blue sea of his eyes.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asks. The question surprising me, telling me he sees me, really sees me, when I have spent a lifetime trying to be invisible to everyone but Gio. This awareness between us is both thrilling and terrifying. Gio is gone, but Kace is here. And Kace has a unique connection to a world I’ve lost, and that I crave now more than ever. He brings me home, back to my roots. He makes me feel a little less alone. So maybe I should run far away, run from him, but for once in my life, I defy all I’ve been taught, and I don’t. I stay put, right here with Kace.
CHAPTER TEN
“Aria?”
At Kace’s gentle prod, I’m snapped out of my reverie.
“Did I say something wrong?” he presses.
“No. Of course not. You said nothing wrong.” And he didn’t. He said nothing wrong. Gio’s absence is what’s wrong but I can’t talk about that and I don’t. I change the subject quickly. “For some reason,” I say, “I thought you lived in Germany.” It’s out before I can stop it, and without that intent, I’ve just made myself look like a fangirl. “I was reading up on the recent Stradivarius auctions and went down a rabbit hole, which included the great violinists of our time.” The explanation I’ve given him is not a lie. I’ve secretly stayed on top of every auction ever held for a Stradivarius and sampled every one of the great violinists. The truth is that Kace’s playing has lulled me to sleep more than just last night.
If he notices my misspeak, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he leans in a little closer, the masculine scent of him far more delicious than the cookies—and the cookies smell pretty darn amazing. “I have a home here and in Germany. Germany is central to my European tours and while I love Germany, New York is my preferred home. That’s what I was arguing with my agent about when you walked up on me at the auction,” he continues. “He wants me to go on a European tour again at the first of the year.”
“And you don’t want to go?” I ask, surprised at how much I don’t want him to go. Which is silly. I just met him. Of course, he will leave soon. His international market is massive.
“No,” he says, his eyes meeting mine. “I find New York calling me right now. Have you ever been to Germany?”
“I haven’t even been to a German restaurant.”
“You’re kidding me. You’ve never had spaetzle?”
“What is spaetzle?”
“German pasta.” His cellphone buzzes with what sounds like an alarm. He snags his phone from his jacket pocket and silences it. “Unfortunately, our talk of spaetzle must wait until later. I have a meeting at Riptide with Mark and Chris. Can I give you a ride home on the way?”
“No,” I say quickly, the idea of putting him out and making him late one I won’t allow. “I’m going to make another stop at this end of the city.” I grab my bag. “I have to swing by my client’s office and talk to him. I really should have been on my way by now. His office is right around the corner.” Which, thankfully, is also not a lie. I do think I’ll stop by and see Ed. An in-person visit will soften the bad news.
He shrugs into his jacket. “I’ll walk you there.”
I don’t know why I suddenly feel awkward when I didn’t a few moments ago. “That’s not necessary.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not necessary, not necessary at all. Most things worth doing aren’t. That’s what makes them meaningful.” There’s a bloom of warmth between us, and a message in his words. He chooses to walk with me. He wants to walk with me. And I am far from eager to end this encounter.
“I’d like that,” I say of his offer.
At my reply, there is something that resembles relief in his eyes but that makes no sense. Surely he didn’t really think that I’d decline his company? He motions to my cup. “Do you want to take your coffee to go?”
I shake it to find that, having sipped in between our conversation, it’s all but gone. “Nothing to take.”
He grabs both our cups tosses them into the can just behind him. “Hang tight a minute,” he says, grabbing the cookie box and walking around me to the counter, where he speaks to Jenny.
I wait and as I do every empty second I own these days, I grab my phone from my bag and check for messages from Gio, but as is always the case, there’s nothing.
Kace heads back my direction and by the time I slide my phone back into my bag, he’s in front of me, offering me his hand to help me up. Once again, it feels like a question. One I know I shouldn’t answer with yes, and yet, what do I do? I steel myself for the impact of his touch and I press my palm to his. I, in essence, say yes. He eases me to my feet and then we’re close again, really close, our hands still joined. He towers over me, staring down at me, and I’m transfixed, drowning into the deep depths of his stare. And yet somehow, as intimate as this moment, I understand what Crystal meant when she described him as reserved. He’s here with me, one hundred percent present, and yet he’s not. There’s more to him, something edgy and dark, something I don’t understand, but Lord help me, I want to understand.
“We’d better go,” he murmurs softly.
“Yes,” I say, feeling an odd sense of regret, when nothing about this encounter should scream regret at all.
Several people crowd into the seating area, and Kace—reluctantly, it seems—releases my hand. The people just keep coming, and I maneuver forward. Kace is right behind me as I pause at the counter to smile at Jenny. “Thank you, Jenny. I loved everything. It was delicious.”
“Oh good, honey.” She hands me a bag. “Those are for you. Come back.” She points at Kace. “With him.” She waves and hurries to the opposite counter to help a customer.
Oh my god. She didn’t say that. My cheeks are officially hot with her assumptions about me and Kace and I can’t look at him. I hurry forward, and once we’re outside, the chill of the fall day is no match for the heat of my embarrassment over Jenny’s comment. “You don’t have to walk me,” I say again, forcing myself to face him.
His eyes burn with understanding. He knows what she did. He knows what I feel. “We already established that I don’t have to walk with you and that I want to walk with you. And I’m pretty sure Jenny is watching expectantly. She wants us to leave together. Let’s do this for her and us. Which way are we headed?”
The man is charming, so very charming. And stubborn. I point to the right. He smiles. “Right it is,” he says, and we fall into step side by side. “Jenny’s really lovely,” I say.
“You have no idea,” he says. “She’s a special lady.”
“I’m surprised the bakery isn’t named Jerry and Jenny’s.”
“He had the place when he met Jenny. He’d lost his wife a few years before and she really brought him back to life.”
No one brought my mother back to life, I think. She was too afraid. Gio wasn’t. He lived. He tried to love, even if he didn’t find that love. I envy him that courage. I think my mother did as well. I just pray it didn’t get him in trouble.
A few blocks down, I turn to face Kace, and motion the door of the fancy high-rise where Ed lives. “This is it.”
He steps closer, that woodsy wonderful scent of his tingling through me. His gaze
lowering to my lips and a swell of heat rushes over me. “This is it, then,” he says, his eyes lifting and finding mine, and I swear every nerve ending in my body pulses with awareness for this man.
“This is it,” I repeat, regret filling me with the certainty he will be gone any moment.
But that moment is not now. He lingers, his fingers catching a strand of my hair, teasing it an eternal moment, before his hand falls away. “Until next time,” he says, and with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me breathless, leaving me confused. Leaving me alone again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Power.
It’s all around me.
Ed’s home is a den of luxury. The doorman calls up to his place to announce my arrival and it’s not long before I’m sitting in Ed’s library, rows of books around me, and luxurious leather beneath me, delivering the bad news. “It’s just not going to happen, Ed.”
Ed’s retired, that is true, but he’s only forty-eight, fit, in jeans and a polo shirt this Saturday. His dark hair is thick, his jawline chiseled, and his wrinkles more character than age. He’s also a man with a calm demeanor, but that calm ticks with an undercurrent of power. “Who was the buyer?”
“Alexander—”
“Voss?”
“Yes, actually. You know him?”
“He worked for me.” His lips thin. “I’ll handle this, Aria. Thank you for trying. We should do dinner sometime soon. We’ll talk about my wish list and other interesting tidbits you and I need to unearth.”
Unease flows through me at that wording and for no good reason. After all, this is not an invitation to dinner. It’s an invitation to leave. “In the meantime, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” I stand up. His cellphone rings. “I’ll see myself out.” I turn away and head for the door and he doesn’t stop me.
A few minutes later, I step to the street with a nagging sensation in my gut and I don’t know why. I’ve known Ed for a good year now and he’s shown no interest in anything but wine. Still, his words replay in my mind: We’ll talk about my wish list and other interesting tidbits you and I need to unearth.
A Reckless Note Page 5
