I tensed. I didn’t know how to respond without explaining more than I wanted to share. If I were to continue frequenting his circles, the subject would come up sooner or later. I was aiming for much later.
After Cleo did a mini re-introduction, their music started. The first song was just as I had expected: awful. They performed like they were trying too hard. The music had no harmony. However, by the second song, they’d found their sync. On the third, we were both at the edge of our seat.
“This is incredible,” I said to him, rising to my feet to applaud.
He clapped and whistled. “See? This is the sound of the future.”
We were all summoned out of our seats to play at the end. They projected the sheet music on the wall for us to follow, and we left our seats to join the audience. The performance wasn’t bad. It was fun.
I turned my head towards Paul, and found he was already looking at me. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” I said.
“It’s not over yet,” he replied cryptically, and motioned towards the stage.
Cleo took the microphone and announced, “As some of you know, we have Paul Crane here tonight, and he’s agreed to come up on stage and play a song with us.” Applause came from the crowd and to my surprise, Paul went up to the side stairs and on to the stage.
When the applause settled down, he spoke into the microphone. “This is for Alan.” While most may not have caught the reference, they clapped, and my heart constricted. He kept on going, but his thoughts were with his family.
Cleo’s ensemble and Paul played John Lennon’s Watching the Wheels. They accompanied him well, but Paul was the star. His passion for performing was so vibrant. He lived and breathed music. I absolutely loved it.
After the show ended, they brought the food and wine trays out for everyone to mingle. Paul came over to me after he finished with the band. He kept me at his side as he went around the room. People gushed over his performance.
It relieved me to find Cleo occupied. She was polite, but I was sure she had invited Paul to spend time with her.
At the end of the night, we walked back to the car. Before we got in, he said, “Give me an Aubrey critique on the performance tonight.”
It was too dark for him to see my smirk, but I still had one on my face. “Am I really that opinionated?”
“I like it,” he replied. “It’s refreshing.”
“Honestly, I thought it was incredible,” I enthused. “You have converted me. It impressed me how much the classical fused with the mainstream. I want to try some of what I heard tonight myself.”
“Me too,” he said. “The night hasn’t ended. You up for doing something else? Are you hungry?”
“No. I filled up on the mini cakes at the venue,” I said. “I also have work tomorrow.”
“I’ll tell Gunnar I hired you to do something for me,” he offered.
I shook my head. It was tempting, but I kept my resolve. “I don’t go back on my word, but maybe—” I looked around and spotted a billiards hall at the end of the block. “We can go there for a game?”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re not dressed to play pool.”
I put my hands on my hips. “I went to a fancy restaurant in a T-shirt and yoga pants. Being inappropriately dressed is our thing,” I joked, and he laughed with me. “Seriously, I haven’t played in years, but I don’t want to go home yet, and it’s close by.”
“I’m game. Your suggestion took me by surprise, and I love when I’m surprised,” he said, linking his arm with mine. “It will be a shame to beat you.”
“I’ll remind you of that when you lose,” I teased him back.
We kept up our half-hearted posturing as we crossed the street over to the pool hall at the end of the block. The hall had rows of pool tables, mostly occupied. While his suit and my dress stood out in the majorly casual T-shirt-and-jeans atmosphere in the hall, a woman in a wedding dress with a man in a tuxedo had already upstaged us.
When we reached our assigned table, Paul chalked our cues and handed mine over. “Ladies first?”
I grinned. “The lady wants no special treatment. Let’s see what you got.”
“You’re solids.” Paul winked then positioned the cue ball and took the first break shot, sinking one striped ball in the corner pocket. Some of his other balls were close to the pockets.
“You did not tell me you’re a pro. Am I about to get hustled?” I mused.
He chuckled. “Scared?” He cleared off a few more balls. At this rate, he’d clear the table. Unless I do something.
“Hey!” I did a horrendous ballerina twirl on my toes.
He missed his shot, then shook his head laughing. “I didn’t take you for a cheat.”
“It’s not cheating. It’s strategic winning,” I said, and positioned my cue to take the next shot.
Paul came over and placed his hands on my waist. “Need help?”
“Now who’s cheating?” I rasped. I could barely breathe, let alone make the shot. I tried glaring at him over my shoulder and showed him my face, warm from blushing. I tried the shot and missed, and he let me go.
“Strategic maneuvering is what it’s called. Right?” he joked.
I moved back to sulk as he stepped forward to take his next shot, giving me a spectacular view of his ass.
I whistled to distract him, but it didn’t work. He cleared one ball and moved around the table to set up for the next. When he landed it in the corner pocket, he turned and rolled his hips playfully. “Enjoying the show?”
Damn, was I ever!
I crossed my arms over my chest. “That was over the top. I get a free shot.”
“Okay, go right ahead.” He moved away so I could take my turn. I was well behind. He only had to clear a couple more to win the game.
I rolled my neck. Focus. “Stay on your side, and no funny stuff.” I sunk in one and missed the next shot.
He chuckled. “Nice try. I should have told you I played pool all the time with my friends when I was a teen.”
“I played too, but mostly like this.” I bumped him with my hip, then pushed two of my balls into one pocket with my hand. “Best out of three?”
“All right,” he agreed.
We played seriously after that. We ended up playing four games. I won one, then called it a night.
“I had fun tonight,” I told him once we were on the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
“Me too. I enjoyed seeing you so relaxed and silly,” he said.
“Such flattery,” I teased, smiling.
“There is so much more I wish I could tell you, beautiful,” he said.
There was no humor in his tone now, and my attention went to my heart, pounding in my chest. We’d been playful and friendly, and this felt anything but. I didn’t know what to say as I watched him take out his phone to call a car. When he ended the call, his words hung between us, but he didn’t say anything else about us. Instead, we used the ride to talk about the performance.
When we arrived at my place, he got out of the car to walk me inside.
I shivered as he placed his arm around me. It came naturally. And while I had a dozen reasons I should pull away, I didn’t. Instead, I closed my eyes and sank against his chest, and his lips brushed my forehead. I couldn’t resist that sweet pull of intimacy I longed for him to satisfy.
“Thank you. I’ll see you next week,” I said.
“Or earlier. I may come over with a violin to Gunnar’s office. I’m still pissed at him for hiring you without telling me and giving me a chance to help you.”
His concern touched me. “Thank you, but it’s really no big deal. His ringing endorsement was that the job would be easy and boring. Everything I need right now. However, if you’re available over the weekend, could I call and ask questions about the music?”
I didn’t want to wait a few days to talk to him again.
“I’d like that very much,” he replied, and slipped his arm around my waist to walk me to my door. He went ins
ide when I opened it. We’d reached the point where I should tell him good night, but neither one of us were saying it.
He stepped forward and clasped my waist again, pressing me back against the door. My head tilted upward, and his sensual mouth firmly took my lips, easily parting them with his tongue, sliding it against my own. The sensation was so amazing, it stole away any thoughts of resisting him—leaving me at the mercy of the aching need spreading through me, begging for more.
Damn it, Paul. I cursed him and pulled on his hair in my plea for him to keep his lips on mine. My knees trembled, and my breath left me. I gave everything I had to him, moaning at every sensuous stroke of his tongue against my own. This was too good to stop, but he did, and he wasn’t done with me.
His lips broke away to kiss a path down my jaw to my neck. I panted, my head fell back, instinctively arching to meet the soft pressure of his lips, and his warm, uneven breath on my skin.
I tried to recover, and he steadied me on my feet.
Before he released me altogether, he stared down into my face to study me, as if he wanted to commit this moment to memory. With confidence, he kissed my lips again, and I didn’t resist him. I marveled at the strength of his passion for me, and mine for him. Deep down, I knew he could have done more than kiss me tonight, but his mercy returned.
“Try as you want, that’s a passion you can’t deny. You wanted my kiss, and I gave it to you. Good night, beautiful.”
He left me standing there, hot, and frustrated. That was when I admitted the truth. I couldn’t just switch him off.
I shut the door with more force than intended. I went to my room and got ready for bed, though I was wide awake now and unable to sleep.
Paul Crane was infuriating. He was highly opinionated and impulsive. He was also charming and passionate. I couldn’t get enough of him, and just when I was sure we’d be friends, he switched things up and raised the stakes again. This time he was pushing me to take a different risk. One that wasn’t a fantasy and could take my heart.
Aubrey
I was smiling non-stop as I finished my last day at Gunnar’s office on Sunday scanning files. It had been just as tedious as he’d promised. The music playlist Paul gave me kept me going. That, along with his text messages with updates on work, or asking if I liked a particular song. His most recent message came with an attachment. It was a recording labeled “Our Kiss.”
My heart swelled in my chest. I’d always loved his piano, and he’d told me before I had inspired him, and this piece he’d written for me. I knew I loved it before I played it, and even more after I finished listening to it. And I heard what I thought of as our kiss. We kissed like our first kiss was our last, and we had but only that moment or we’d lose it. The sound was ethereal, sweet, intense.
My reply couldn’t capture just how much his writing something about us touched me. He felt the same way I did. We’d channeled our lust into our song, but now it was back in the forefront. He said he wouldn’t push me, but we’d ended up kissing again anyway. So where did that leave us?
I wasn’t sure, but I responded.
4:49 P.M. I love it so much! Thank you.
Paul called me soon after.
“I’m glad you like it. Please say you’ll come with me tonight. I’ve got the Knicks game to go to, but afterwards Recon, Cara, and I agreed to work on the hook for a song before she leaves for a short tour abroad.”
“Cara Tinsel? I thought you weren’t working with her,” I replied, and stood up from the desk. Not that I was jealous or anything, I told myself.
“Cara apologized, released a public statement, and I accepted it. This song is hot, and I can’t walk away from it. It’s imprinted on me. It’s almost there but needs more heart. After they listened to my recording of Absolution, they got a feel for your violin—”
“—Oh my God, you played Absolution for Recon and Cara Tinsel? I mean, can you do that with Emono’s music?” I asked.
“They already signed an NDA, and Recon is re-releasing a song for the soundtrack. I want Cara on it too,” he replied. “But first things first. The music is missing you. Say you’ll come and help me tonight? It’ll be late.”
“How late are you talking?” My other lined beeped.
“To be honest, very late,” he said.
“Okay. Sleep’s overrated,” I half-joked. “I have to go.”
“I’ll make sure you get plenty. Talk to you later.” He hung up.
I pushed the button for the other line. “Hello?”
“Oh, hello, Ms. Irving? This is the repairman. The water heater I have will not work for your home. I’ve another one in stock, and I can get it now, but I need you to allow the extra charge.”
“How much?” I asked.
“It’s just an extra six hundred dollars.” he said. “I can waive the tax, to keep it at an even five thousand dollars.”
“You quoted me $3,700,” I grumbled.
“That didn’t include labor,” he said.
“What? No way,” I said in dismay. “You did the consultation and confirmed a price.”
“I’m sorry, that was a mistake made by another worker in our company,” he replied. “If you want to cancel, I understand, but I must charge you three hundred dollars for service today, and the consultation fee.”
“You told me the consultation was free because you agreed to install today,” I said, my voice elevating.
“Let me try,” Gunnar called from the door. He came over and took the phone. “Hello. This is Gunnar Larsen of the Law Offices of Larsen and Rorer. Who am I speaking to? … And I’ll assure you with the lawsuit I’m sending tomorrow I’m real. You finish the repair, or we go to court.”
I muffled the phone when he handed it back. “I know you were trying to help, but I don’t need an angry repairman in the house with my sick mother. Excuse me.”
I walked away from him and finished the conversation in a back cubicle. No matter what I said, the repairman refused to budge on the price, and I didn’t have an extra six hundred dollars. I told him I’d get back to him, leaving my call to my sister for later.
“Sorry,” Gunnar said when I came back over to the cubicle where I worked for him. “Is everything all right?”
I rubbed my throbbing temples. “It will be, I hope. Thanks for trying. His company was still the cheapest one I found in Camden, where I’m from. My family has been without hot water for three days now, and my mom isn’t well.”
Gunnar snorted. “He wasn’t cheap. He was always planning to increase the price. You should have let me help you.”
“I can handle it. I can’t leave my mom and my sister without hot water.” I took a deep breath as I tried to think what else I could do, and Gunnar waved his hand in front of me to get my attention back. “Sorry. Did you want something else? I’m finished here.”
“Actually, I came to thank you for all the files you’ve added to the database. And for sending the completed files back to the warehouse,” he said.
I waved my hand dismissively. “It was nothing… There’s still more work here. Do you think you can extend this job for the rest of the month?”
“You’ll work seven days a week?” he asked with raised eyebrows. “Paul would kill me if I did that. You need rest, too. You work over fifty hours between Emono and Crane Productions. It’s not worth your health. Sorry, I can’t do that.”
I swallowed hard and gave him a nod before returning to the computer. I wanted to be alone, but Gunnar sat down next to the workstation.
“I overheard you talking to your sister and mom,” he said, softening. “That’s a hefty burden, and impossible to keep up. I’ve tried it with my opioid-addicted father. I’ll leave information for you to keep on the backburner when you realize you can’t solve your family’s problems forever. Hopefully, before you burn out.”
“I won’t abandon my family when they need me.” I pressed my lips together.
“I’m not telling you not to help them,” he replied. “But y
ou can’t keep solving everything on your own… Now, I don’t tell secrets.”
“And I appreciate that,” I said with a smile.
“However, if I see you continue to fall apart, I will ask Paul to intervene. He’ll swoop in and take every worry away from you. He won’t ask, he’ll do,” he warned.
“No, thank you,” I said and returned to stacking the folders.
“I like you, Aubrey,” Gunnar said directly. “You work hard, and you care about your family. You’re nothing like his previous women. They were strategic. They played the game well. You’re just trying to get your career going.”
“I am,” I said, and shut the computer down. “That’s all.”
“I know that now. You’re normal, and I mean that in the nicest way. I love my cousin, but he’s flaky as fuck. He loves being in love. He’ll make you feel you’re special, but it’ll fade. He’ll hurt you.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I replied soberly. It was so opposite of what I’d found in Paul. I didn’t want to believe he would do that.
“Too bad you won’t listen,” Gunnar said, and scoffed. “Get your stuff. I’ll drop you home.”
“No, thanks,” I picked up my handbag.
“I didn’t ask you,” he replied stubbornly. “You’ll take the ride to get the paycheck.”
“Blackmail it is, then?” I shook my head and grinned.
“Yep,” he replied, and laughed. “I wish I met you first.”
I smirked. “As if you’re my type.”
“Ballsy. Behave that way more often, and I’ll fight him for you. I’m a grower, you’ll love me. If you can handle it.”
I shrugged. “I can only be me.”
Paul never asked for me to change, and I liked that.
I took off my glasses and rubbed my sore eyes.
Gunnar studied me and the corners of his mouth turned down. “Actually, if you can wait for a few minutes, I left something in my office.” He handed me his keys. “I’ll meet you down in the car—and remember, I have your check.”
Unfinished Sympathy Page 19
