A Reckless Note

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  I open the door and suck in a breath to find Kace standing right there, right in front of me, his hand pressed to the doorjamb, his snug T-shirt stretched across an impressive chest. His big, perfect body is the best kind of barrier a girl could wish for. He catches my hand and steps me into him, tingling sensations darting up my arm and across my chest.

  “Ready?” he asks, a rough masculine push beneath the question.

  “Why do I feel as if that question could mean a million things with you?”

  Mischief floods his blue eyes. “Because your mind is presently someplace I, unfortunately, can’t visit with you until after this event.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out there already?”

  “I have about three minutes, which means you need to get back out front.” He slides his arm around me and just that easily, we are in motion down the empty hallway.

  “Showtime, August!”

  At the sound of Chris’s voice behind us, Kace twists around and walks backward. “Hell yeah, man. Let’s go do this big for a big cause.”

  “Is there any other way?” Chris asks.

  We arrive at the door leading to the auction room and Kace rotates, placing himself between me and Chris, his hand settling possessively at my waist. “There is no other way,” he says softly. “Not if you really want something.” And suddenly I don’t think he’s talking about the show anymore. He cups my face. “Don’t leave without me.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. He opens the door and the clink and clatter of glasses mixes with the hum of voices. Crystal’s voice sounds over the speakers as she speaks to the crowd, the urgency of me taking my seat quite clear.

  “Good luck, Kace,” I whisper, and dare to kiss his cheek.

  I see a fleeting moment of heat in his eyes and something else, something indiscernible I desperately wish that I could read before I rotate away from him and into the auction room. With fast steps, I quickly travel past the stage to the seating area that is now stacked with bodies, the lights low, muting faces. The other guests can see me but I can’t see them. Discomfort rattles around inside me, the defensive instincts drilled into me my entire life telling me to shy away from the spotlight. But that’s impossible, as there’s nowhere to go but into the spotlight right now, especially considering I’m the guest of one of the stars of the night right upfront.

  Finally, I settle into my seat next to Sara, and just in time too as Crystal has stepped away from the podium and the lights go down. Sara grabs my hand. “I’m so excited and nervous.”

  Marvin’s guitar screams roughly, wildly through the air and the music shoots adrenaline through me. I’m here, in the front row, when Kace August is about to play while Chris Merit paints. I’m here, living life, experiencing the past, the present—and on some level, I believe—my future, right here, right now. Gio was right. I never live life. Ever. But I am now, and there is no denying the thrill that comes with this night, and every moment I’ve spent with Kace, really with myself, out in the real world. I squeeze Sara’s hand. “Me, too.”

  Little white lights twinkle in a musical formation when suddenly a violin starts playing the dramatic intense notes of a cover of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve.

  The lights come up and Kace is right in front of me, playing while Chris is to my right, painting. The crowd explodes into applause, while drums manned by a tall man with black hair streaked blue accents the drama. Sara and I slowly release each other and relax into the show as it’s so very clear that Kace and Chris are magical together. Chris’s canvas becomes a bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and I soon realize as Kace’s music morphs into an intense, edgy rendition of “Back in Black” by AC/DC, he’s right beside Chris. Chris’s hand moves with the mood of the music, more jutted action to his strokes, and buildings begin to appear on his canvas.

  Song after song, the room absorbs every moment of the show, and when finally, Chris’s canvas is done, he stands, and Kace lowers his violin. Side by side, they take a bow, and when Kace’s gaze slides to me, his lips curve as he gives me a wink. My stomach flutters and I erupt in applause with the rest of the room.

  Crystal joins them on stage, microphone in hand. “Wow,” she says. “Just wow. Two of the most talented people on planet earth right here on our stage. And I have even more of a treat for you. The violin Kace played on tonight and Chris’s painting are both up for auction. And be generous, please. All proceeds will be given to The Addiction and Suicide Prevention Society, an organization that will be supported by each of the four shows Kace and Chris will do together over the next month in various locations. Each event will include different music and a different work on the canvas. You can look those events up online or we have brochures for you at the door as you leave. And without further ado, our auctioneers for the night.”

  A man in a tuxedo steps in front of Kace, and Kace hands off his violin. Chris and Kace walk to the side of the stage and the next thing I know, they’re headed toward us. Only then do I realize that there are two empty seats next to me. I quickly move over to allow Chris a spot next to Sara. Kace sits down next to me and his hand is instantly on my leg as if we’re a couple when we’ve only just met. The charge between us is electric.

  “The show was, of course, amazing,” I whisper. “Being here for it was amazing. That you did it for charity is special.”

  Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, I think—though I’m not sure why. He leans in and kisses me, which is sure to garner attention I don’t need. Actually, every moment I spend with a rock star like Kace is attention I don’t need, but I just can’t seem to care. The auctioneer is now covering the auction rules while Kace and I reluctantly, it feels, settle into our seats.

  The auction begins with Kace’s violin, which is not a Stradivarius, but rather an authentic Guadagnini—also a masterful instrument, donated by a local billionaire who is in the audience. The bid starts at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and quickly becomes competitive. Kace sits there, staring at the stage, and I can feel the tension in him, the man, the human being, who is nervous, who feels performance pressure. His fingers tense on my legs, and when finally, the bid ends at the insane figure of one million dollars, his shoulders ease, his fingers relax. Next up is Chris’s painting, which ends at one-point-two million dollars.

  Kace and Chris lean forward, sharing a look of pride and a connection that radiates between them. Tonight matters to them. The charity matters to them. Suicide has touched both of their lives and there is no joy, only tragedy in such a thing. In that moment, I remember Sara saying that they are just men. I expand on that in my mind. They have loves, likes, passions, and pain because we all have pain. We all have pain. We are the sum of all of those things—I am the sum of all of those things. I find myself wanting to understand and know Kace but I warn myself that you have to give what you get.

  If I begin a journey to know him, he, too, will begin a journey to know me. I’m not sure that’s safe for either one of us. But then he looks at me and laces his fingers with mine, and I remind myself that Gio likes his adventures. Gio has disappeared before. He may well be off roaming the world with Sofia. And here I am, right here, alone.

  Except that I’m not alone. I’m with Kace.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The spell between Kace and I is broken when the auction of the Stradivarius is announced, sold by an anonymous seller, an instrument the auctioneer claims to once have been long lost. More like an imitation of an instrument long lost, I think, which of course, Gio would have figured out as well—if he’d seen it. But Mark didn’t even allow Kace an early viewing. Gio couldn’t have seen it. Maybe he had a tip that it was fake?

  The auctioneer continues his chatter, diving into a lengthy history of the violin that is not true since it’s a fake. On and on and on he continues, hyping the audience for what will likely be a ten-million-dollar-plus final bid. That’s big money and I wonder if Mark really will take my warnings about the violin’s authenticity
to heart. With the bidding quickly approaching, I wonder if Kace truly will as well. Kissing me doesn’t equal knowing me. Neither Kace nor Mark understand my exceptional credentials, and how could they? I am a ghost hiding behind another identity.

  I inhale and my gaze lands on Kace’s hand on my leg, the hand of a gifted man. The hand of a man who has touched the violins made by my ancestor, that I myself, have not touched since I was a young child. The hand of a man who has stormed into my life with his presence and stirred forbidden desires in all kinds of ways. My hand settles on his, a desperate attempt to control him, to control me, but it doesn’t work. Now, I’m touching him, and he’s touching me, and his presence is fluttering through me in all kinds of ways.

  My eyes lift and I’m pinned by Kace’s blue-eyed stare, lost in a sea of passion and the forbidden, drowning in a man I barely know but cannot help but want to know. The bid on the violin starts at one hundred thousand dollars. Bids are placed rapid-fire, and at five hundred thousand dollars, I can’t see who is bidding, not at all. Kace arches a brow, a silent question: do I want to bid? I shake my head, a no to any idea I might do so, to the idea that he should do so.

  His response is to lean in close, his lips at my ear, his breath warm on my neck, his hand on my jaw as he murmurs, “Let’s get out of here.”

  My initial thought is no. I can’t. But that doesn’t last long. My brother isn’t here and suddenly I’m suffocating in that reality. That violin is not the answer to any question he or I would ask. I don’t believe Sofia is here, either. I have no reason to be here now but him, and when he eases back to study me, I don’t make him wait, I don’t make him push. My hand settles on his hand where it still touches my face, and I whisper, “Yes.”

  His eyes heat with approval, and he eases forward around me, speaking to Chris, I believe, though I can’t hear what is said. A moment later, he stands and takes me with him. Adrenaline surges through me as I’m being led toward the side of the stage by Kace August and there is no way that goes unnoticed. Meanwhile, the bids for the violin continue to charge to a higher price tag, now at three million. Kace opens the exit door and we step into the hallway. The instant the door shuts behind us, Kace drags me close, the hard wall of his body absorbing mine.

  “What are you doing to me, woman?” he demands, and then his fingers have spiked into my hair, his mouth slanting over my mouth, his tongue stroking deep. And then I’m drowning in this man, bright lights exploding in a sea of what has been so much darkness, so much loneliness. And I have been lonely. I’ve hidden from it. I’ve denied it. I’ve convinced myself that I didn’t need certain things, but right here, right now, I need him. I need this.

  And when he tears his mouth from mine, and says, “Come home with me,” it’s all I can to do find solid ground, to remember who I am, who he is, to remember how dangerous that connection might become.

  “Kace, I—”

  “Don’t say no.” He presses his lips to my ear and whispers. “I never take women home with me. Ever. But I’m asking you to come home with me now.”

  “Never?”

  He pulls back, his warm breath leaving a trail of goosebumps on my neck as he meets my stare. “Never,” he confirms.

  I’m not sure what to feel, what to think. “Why me?”

  “Because I can’t help myself with you, Aria. And that doesn’t happen. Not to me. Come home with me.”

  My hand lands on the solid wall of his chest, his heart thundering beneath my palm, his body telling me that his words aren’t just words—he means his words. I should say no. I know I should say no but it’s just one night. It’s always one night with a man like Kace August. And before I can stop myself, I say exactly what he wants me to say, what I want to say, “Yes.”

  His mouth closes over mine again, the taste of him hungry, wicked, addictive, and gone too soon. “Let’s get out of here before someone slows us down,” he murmurs, and when I mouth “yes,” he waits for nothing more. He catches my hand and leads me down a hallway to yet another hallway and then an exit where a tall, bald, muscular man in a tuxedo, awaits.

  “Mr. August,” he greets and then inclines his chin at me, a hint of a tattoo peeking from beneath his collar. “Ma’am.”

  “Hey, Leo,” Kace replies. “We’re out of here for the night.”

  “Understood,” Leo confirms before he knocks on the door and someone opens it from the other side. Cold air gusts through the door and I shiver and turn to Kace. “My coat.” Kace instantly shrugs out of his, wrapping the soft leather that was just next to his body around mine, using the lapels to step me into him. “Better?”

  “Yes,” I say, no longer cold despite the still open door, but decidedly warm and swoony “But I should go upfront and grab my own coat.”

  “Not without walking through the auction room and the front doors are locked for VIP events. Do you have a ticket?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” I reach in my purse and hand it to him.

  “We’ll have it delivered to my place.” He is about to step away when Leo holds up a hand. “I’ll handle it.”

  Kace arches a brow. “You can blow up buildings and bad guys and retrieve coats?”

  “Walker Security is nothing if not versatile, and as part of your security team, I’d prefer your address to stay with us. I got this.” He eyes me. “You’ll have your coat before the evening ends.”

  “Thank you, Leo,” I say.

  Leo offers me a tiny nod. “My absolute pleasure.”

  Kace shakes his hand and then he’s whisking me into the night air and a private alleyway with his car parked to our right. We head that way and a valet opens the passenger door for me. Kace’s hand strokes my hair and he’s right there with me as I climb inside, but he doesn’t linger. I’m quickly enclosed inside the Roadster with the seductive scent of man and leather now all around me. Kace joins me almost immediately, claiming the driver’s seat and cranking the engine.

  His eyes meet mine and I don’t know how it happens or why, but we both start smiling. And with that shared smile, I am lost in this night and this man, into the escape I never allow myself. The rest of the world fades, my fears and worries with it. At least for now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I knew Kace lived in Tribeca. I knew that meant money and power.

  But when he pulls us to the door of one of the newest, tallest, most unique half-moon shaped buildings, I’m fighting a fish-out-of-water sensation. This is not my world, and yet somehow this man lives inside exactly that: my world. A world, or at least his home, he swears he’s invited no one inside, and yet, he’s invited me. And I believe him. Perhaps that is yet another of the many ways Kace appeals to me. Despite a recognizable name, he’s private. He chooses privacy, thus it feels that he will understand mine.

  Kace opens his door. “I’ll come around and get you,” he says, but already someone is opening my door, the chill of the evening permeating the warm cocoon of the car. A new season is upon us, the old fading into the past, and it feels as if I’m a part of that change. I’m changing. I can feel it happening.

  It’s then that I realize I’m here, at this place I don’t know, without even a full-sized purse. Even my coat is, in fact, Kace’s coat. That’s how much I’ve allowed myself to step out of my comfort zone, how much I’m changing. Gio told me this had to happen and then pressed my hand and ensured it did by simply leaving me alone. My brother is a man that pushes limits. For all I know, that was his intent: to push mine. For now, I’d like to believe that to be true. He left so that I could be found. If that’s true, I’ll hug him and hit him, in that order.

  Shifting, I settle my feet on the ground. Already, Kace is there, towering above me, offering me his hand. I steel myself for the impact of his touch, and when my palm touches his palm, I’m a moth to a flame, and he is that flame. He eases me to my feet and grips the lapels of my jacket, his jacket, and steps in close to me. The cold air swirls around us, but inside this new
cocoon he’s created there is nothing but heat.

  “Once you go upstairs with me,” he says, his voice low and rough, for my ears only, “you’re all mine. And I don’t promise to be a gentleman about it.” His hand slides under my hair, his lips finding my ear. “I promise to kiss and lick you in every one of the many places I’ve been thinking about kissing and licking you since the day I met you.”

  He’s been thinking about kissing me and licking me from the day he met me?

  Yes.

  Please.

  He pulls back to look at me, those eyes, God those eyes, pinning me in a stare. “Unless you’d rather me be a gentleman and take you home?”

  Home.

  I don’t even know what that means right now. And I don’t want to think about it. I’m not fooling myself into thinking Kace is my Prince Charming. I’m not fooling myself into thinking I dare to have a real relationship, but I dare to have this night. I dare whatever this night brings.

  “I want to be right here,” I say. “With you. Tonight.”

  On the word tonight, his eyes narrow and he studies me, his expression indiscernible, before he leans in and kisses me. “Let’s go upstairs.” He catches my hand and only then do we step away from the vehicle.

  “We’re in for the night,” Kace calls out to one of the two men working the front door.

  We’re in for the night.

  I could be embarrassed by the way this announces that I’ll be naked with Kace tonight, but I’m not. The way Kace said those words—they fell from his lips as if me being a part of “we” was natural. He didn’t say “I.” That’s what stands out to me.

  His arm slides around me and we enter a large lobby that is stunning with brown wood floors streaked with black. Fancy leather seating areas are accented with drop lights above each. A half-moon shaped security desk is to our far left, a wide distance between it and us, but Kace waves at the tall, dark-haired man behind the counter before we cut right and enter a bank of elevators. He punches a button and the doors to the nearest car open.